


Psychopomp

by EveryEye (Thief_Queen)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Cross-mythology, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thief_Queen/pseuds/EveryEye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You didn't think that people in kimonos performed soul burials on Egyptian pharaohs, or Vikings, did you?" Two fighters part ways on bad terms. Can two friends meet on the battlefield to mend the broken world? A Winter War story where deities from other pantheons take sides, and two hotheads achieve self-reflection through trials of blood and steel…literally. Tatsuki-centric, Ensemble-piece</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Make the World Weak

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 1: This story covers an alternate version of events (from Orihime's kidnapping all the way through the end of the Winter War) in which Aizen uses the ability of event-rejection to it's utmost, death gods of other pantheons play a key role in the winter war (on both sides), and Tatsuki finally develops the abilities we all know she's harboring—and puts them to use. This story is Tatsuki-centric (with a secondary focus on Ichigo), and will in the very long run be ultimately about their relationship with each other. However, it is also an ensemble piece, and will not only will it heavily feature many, many other Bleach characters, it will also include their POVs as well. A plethora of different pairings will be explored between various characters, because in this story, like in life, relationships among groups of people are shifting, unrequited, and/or complicated.
> 
> All "original" characters are not really original, as they will be based on religions, folklore, mythology, and cultural myths created hundreds to thousands of years ago. Descriptions, roles, skills, and abilities of deities from other pantheons will closely tie with these beliefs. Please note that (*) indicates a footnote below that explains the mythological origin/significance of the preceding word or statement that I think might not be common knowledge. (†) indicates a note on the story itself. If you think this practice gets annoying or isn't helpful, please let me know.
> 
> Spoilers up to current chapters in the manga. Sorry about the long author note. Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 1: Make the World Weak**

_The clever make the world weak_   
_To pull it from it's moorings_   
_To form the old wicked ruse_   
_To weather the coming storm_

-'Saturnine'  
by The Smashing Pumpkins

* * *

Her footsteps echoed loud on the pavement as she raced across the town. Desperate, fearful, the blood that pounded through her heart made her veins tingle with dread.

_She is not here,_ she thought, could not escape thinking. _I am not going to find her._

The school, the sweet shop, even the arcade, the girl was _nowhere._ After an entire day of searching, ever since she had felt Orihime's presence disappear completely, she had nothing to show for her efforts.

Refusing to quit, her shadow ran with her, now before, now behind in the glow of the orange streetlights she passed. She could not say how long she had been running until, at last, she collapsed to her knees in an exhausted heap by the river.

_Something happened. She is not here._

Tatsuki almost never cried. She hadn't cried when she got hit by a car and broke her arm. She hadn't cried when the chain of a swing got tangled in her hair and it ripped a chunk of it out. She hadn't cried that time she slipped on the ice and broke her front two teeth. But as she knelt on the bank of the river, digging her fingers into the dirt beneath her, she could feel a prickling sensation in her tear ducts.

_Ichigo knows_. Ichigo was at the center of all weird things. Had been, for many months. Tatsuki may have been pushed to the sidelines, forgotten and alone, but she could recognize a pattern when she saw one.

And she could recognize a ghost, too.

Part of her blamed herself for letting things go on as long as they had. She knew, she _knew_ they had been lying to her. Keeping secrets. Her memories of the first strange incidents were still foggy, but as time went on, recollections and evidence were piling up in a neat stack.

She had told herself that she would wait until they were ready. Many a night she had stared at the blank wall next to her bed and told herself that when they were ready to talk, _when they needed someone to talk to_ , they would come to her and lay their burdens down. It got harder to believe with every turn of the moon. Instead of coming to lean on her, they shared their hardships with each other, keeping everything within the circle. Away from her.

_It is good they can depend on each other,_ she admitted. _But if they cannot come to me with their fears, how can I to go to them with mine?_ Until they told her what was happening, she had no one to talk to about the strange awareness she could feel growing stronger within herself every day. Until they came to her with the truth, she was alone.

She shook her head, trying to keep her focus on the matter at hand and not let it run in familiar, depressing circles. _Ichigo knows what this is about_ , she thought. _And I won't rest until he's told_ me _what it's about too._

She hadn't expected to sleep that night. As she fell into bed fully clothed, not even removing her shoes, she had felt sure that sleep would elude her as surely as Orihime had. It was not only worry for her friend that chewed at her like a rabid dog, but also concern over how to confront her _other_ friend in the morning.

She had convinced herself not to storm into Ichigo's house that night demanding answers. She couldn't be sure that Orihime wasn't just off on another adventure to her _grandmother's house_ , as she had been all this past summer (who did they think they were fooling?). If it all turned out to be fine, she couldn't even imagine the kind of shame and embarrassment such an overreaction would shower her with. And if it _wasn't_ okay…well, she hadn't any idea what to do, anyway. She had no choice but to try to get some answers before she could act. _This, too, is a fight. I have to size up the situation before I lunge._

Her stomach flipped as she tried to reason out what to say to Ichigo to persuade him to be honest with her. She had been waiting, _patiently,_ for him to come to her of his own accord. After so many near-misses involving her, after her friends at the dojo had all been killed, after all the strange sightings and fights that she couldn't deny any longer, she had waited. She had known him longer than she had ever known another person, save her parents, and she knew that Ichigo had to be allowed to do things in his own time. But while she waited, her heart sank a little every day that passed that he _did not tell her_ , did not even look at her in class.

Weren't they nakama?

_Don't doubt it,_ she told herself. _You will find the words, tomorrow. You will tell him you_ know _, and he will be relieved that you won't think he's crazy when he tells you everything that's been going on._

Yeah. Right. _Ever the optimist, inner-Tatsuki._

She had not expected to sleep that night, with such stresses weighing on her mind. Which was why when she _dreamed_ it was as unexpected as it was disturbing.

A red-blonde woman with metal skin. A dragon with glittering, golden scales. A stone being ground into shining droplets of water. Ichigo, his face transformed into a grotesque rictus of hatred. A woman with feathers for hair. And scariest of all, Orihime, pale and beautiful, with a gaping hole where her heart should be.

She woke up gasping for breath, clutching at something that was not there.

_Ichigo_ , she thought desperately. _You've got to tell me everything. You've got to tell me everything, or I'll never be able to sleep again._

* * *

Grimmjow's laughter echoed through the hall, bouncing on the tiles and sliding over the bloodstains that Luppi's lifeless body had smeared everywhere.

Aizen's mouth formed his favorite type of smile, his _secret_ smile; a smirk that displayed his pleasure, but gave no hint as to _why_ he was so very, very amused. Everything was perfect. The girl's powers were everything he was hoping they'd be. It was perfect.

"Ulquiorra," he intoned over the din.

"Yes, Aizen-sama?"

"Please take Inoue-san to the quarters that have been prepared for her. Ensure that she's comfortable."

"Yes, Aizen-sama."

As the Fourth Espada led the unresisting girl from the hall, Aizen dismissed the other arrancar from his presence.

"Won't that girl's friends be looking for her?" asked Nnorita, before anyone could leave. The question was casual enough, but the leer on his face oozed lust for a fight. At the Fifth's words, the remaining Espada turned to look at Aizen.

He deigned to answer. "While it seems likely they would make an attempt to reacquire our guest, we have sealed all entrances into Hueco Mundo for the time being. This includes the ones we've let the Shinigami researchers tamper with."

Aizen made certain to control the authority in his voice just right for the sentence that came next—too little, and some, like Grimmjow, would test him; too much and others would bristle and seethe. "This means that the likely _success_ of a rescue attempt is very low. However, it also means that none of you are able to leave Hueco Mundo until further notice. Until instructed otherwise, I ask that you remain in your palaces." While there were a few disgruntled and disappointed mutterings, all the Espada filed out without incident.

Aizen turned to the remaining occupants in the room, the other former Shinigami captains that had participated in his coup and betrayed the Gotei 13.

"Tousen."

"Yes, Aizen-sama?"

"Do you remember the unsolicited message that came from Dis* some months ago?"

"From the ranks of the Fallen? Yes."

"And do you recall what they wanted?"

"Yes. They wanted you to create a fighting force of arrancar for them to use in their struggle against the Favored. In exchange for an army, they offered to commit their swords for a siege on the Seireitei."

"A fair promise," said Aizen. "And do you remember why we refused such an offer?"

"Two reasons. First, if we were to create more arrancar, we would be better served by adding them to our own ranks than giving them away."

Gin smiled, looking for all the world like a fox. "Heh, it's not like we've got warehouses full of extras."

"And the second reason, Tousen?" Aizen prodded.

"Of course. Even though they were willing to swear their allegiance in a battle against Soul Society, their reiatsu patterns are wholly different from ours, and would be repelled in our realm. Fallen angels—as well as loyal angels—of any significantly high power level can't pass into Hueco Mundo _or_ Soul Society."

"Lesser demons might be able to pass, but they'd be little more than cannon fodder," Gin smirked. "It was just like that other request from those Ifrits.* They could promise us a billion wishes, but if they can't get their asses here then it's pointless. " He snorted, "Ya'd think they'd know it, too. Shows ya how desperate they are."

"Still, the fact that multiple pantheons have begged our help indicates the amount of respect we have garnered in other spirit realms," Tousen said. "It is an acknowledgement that our power is growing."

"Ya, the rabble scraping at our door is quite the compliment," sneered Gin.

"What if I suggested to you, gentlemen," Aizen interrupted, "that we _could_ bring those with discordant reiatsu to Hueco Mundo?"

"How is that possible? Cross-dimensional travel is extremely difficult. For a captain-class being it is virtually impossible," said Tousen.

"Not to mention the side effects ya experience if ya manage to do it," added Gin.

"And if we were to _reject_ the effects?" Aizen continued to smile.

For the space of a breath, both men went very silent.

"Are you saying that girl can usher powerful beings into Hueco Mundo from other realms, with no side effects?" asked Tousen.

"Well, _yes_. However, if she were to see to it personally that all ill-effects were negated, she would have to be performing event rejection continuously on everyone. The far more practical solution would be for us to harness her power to create a device or an artifact that would have the same effect.

"And in fact," again, a smile, "I have already asked Syzael to look into such a device, ever since Ulquiorra brought the girl to our attention. Now that she's here, he'll be able to take the work into its final stages."

"But what about the price?" asked Gin.

_Very sharp_ , thought Aizen. "Ah yes, the arrancar army." He tilted his head and rested it on the tips of his fingers, propping his elbow up on the throne. "Frankly, I have no intention of using the Hougyoku to make arrancar armies for outsiders. _But…"_

Aizen looked at Tousen. "On a daily basis, what do you think a Fallen Angel in Dis misses the most?"

Tousen only hesitated for a second, "Paradise."

Aizen smirked in a way that might have meant many things. "Paradise is subjective. And anyway, they cannot see it from where they are, to be taunted with reminders of it every day."

Gin was staring at the stains of blood that had been Luppi's life, until an arm was reattached onto a certain creature that had sorely missed it. "Their wings."

"The scars never fully heal, you know." Aizen's tone was light, conversational. "Where their proud plumage used to bloom lay wounds that bleed and ache and never, never close. I'm sure they would be more grateful for their restoration than any army we can bestow."

"The girl can return them," said Tousen. "Easily."

"We glue a few angel wings back on, increase the power of our fighting force, and all for a fraction of the resources creating an arrancar army would run us," said Gin.

"You gentlemen still aren't seeing the larger implications." Aizen's voice was taking on a quality that he liked to think of as his "visionary tone." While it wasn't really necessary with these two, Aizen understood that a leader must never neglect the power of charisma when bending those around you to comply with your will.

"Those that beseech us all have some things in common with each other. They all are usually nefarious in nature, for a certainty, and they all are looking to seize power—terrible at wielding it though they may be. But, most conspicuously, they are all trying to _reject_ something. Reclaim that which was lost, like the Fallen and their bygone glory. Release themselves from servitude, like the desert Jinns and Ifrits. Reverse the hierarchy of power in their realm **,** like Erlik and his Siberian sons.* They all want to deny some event or condition.

"This girl has the ability to grant such longings. And when we spread the word, it is not just the rabble that will flock to us, but the powerful as well."

"Soul Society will be limited in the support they can receive from other pantheons," said Tousen. "They will not have the girl's powers to bring in the same level of assistance."

"Precisely. Allies of such caliber will go a long way towards furthering our ultimate goals," smiled Aizen.

"Tousen, I would like for you to prepare a message to be sent to those of the spirit realms that are…unhappy with their current lot, informing them of what we can offer, and asking them what _they_ are prepared to offer in return."

"Yes, Aizen-sama." Without pause, Tousen swept from the room to complete his task.

Only Gin stayed behind. "That's a fine plan, except I was wondering…" there was something about his smile that was gaping, even when his mouth was closed, "is it really in our best interests to grant all these boons to creatures that are known for being untrustworthy? Seems like we'd be setting ourselves up in a prime position to be stabbed in the back."

_Very sharp indeed,_ thought Aizen. "For a certainty, giving them everything they want would be very _bad_ for us. If we reach out our hand in offering _too_ far, we are like to get it bitten off for our trouble." The manner in which these words left his mouth said this was the last thing that would happen. "But surely the dog that gets a _taste_ of a reward will be more likely to wear the leash.

"Let it suffice to say that treachery is not unplanned for. And besides, Gin, as far as us concerning ourselves over the trustworthiness of our future comrades," Aizen smiled his favorite smile, "well, you know what it is they say about throwing stones."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 2: Constructive criticism is welcomed and embraced, and feedback totally makes me write faster. Thank you so much for reading this far.
> 
> (*) Mythology Notes:
> 
> Dis: In Dante's Inferno, Dis is the "City of the Dead," and can be thought of almost like the capital city of Hell. Fallen Angels "guard" the city, but they are just as much prisoners as they are jailers. Dis is in the 6th circle of Hell and marks the transition from punishment of passive sins (like sloth) to active sins (like murder). For the purposes of this story, Dis is the home of the majority of Fallen Angels.
> 
> Ifrits/Jinns: Commonly known as Genies in the western world. From the Arabic tradition, they appear in the Qur'an, and are described as spirits of free-will that are lesser than angels, and stronger, but not smarter than humans. They can be good or evil, and some have a penchant for possessing and/or tricking humans, depending on the type they are. They can be summoned to do services or bound, usually by black magic, to something like a bottle or a lamp—thus the story of Aladdin and the Genie of the Lamp.
> 
> Erlik: A God of Death in Mongolian/Siberian mythology. Evil and treacherous, he was cast to the Underworld by the creator god Ulgen. Erlik is continuously trying to overthrow Ulgen so that he is seen as equal to him, or even greater. He has 9 sons and daughters to help him spread misfortune to human kind.


	2. Schism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.
> 
> Author's Note 1: A quick heads-up: In this chapter, as in the last, most of the non-Shinigami gods discussed are from Judeo-Christian dogma—fallen angels in particular. I want to assure those of you looking for some mythological variety that this is only because they take the least amount of up-front explanation. Seems to me that most readers will be at least passing-familiar with the concept of angels, and these first chapters are already so full of exposition and set-up that I didn't want to overwhelm everyone right away with more back-story. So, long note short, I'm easing you in—variety is coming!
> 
> And now, we join a meeting already in progress…

> **Chapter 2: Schism**
> 
> _The light that fueled our fire then_
> 
> _Has burned a hole between us so_
> 
> _We cannot see to reach an end_
> 
> ‘Schism’
> 
> by Tool

* * *

**_Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 1 / Soul Society_ **

The tension in the air was thick, stagnant. This room had held any number of meetings in which the potential destruction of Soul Society had been discussed, and plans to save it forged. But in the hundreds of years that Shunsui had been a part of such meetings, none had ever seemed quite as somber, or as dire, as this one.

"Perhaps his call will fall on deaf ears," he sighed, knowing it was a futile hope. The information Ukitake had presented was quite clear, but the lay-about in him kept faith alive that perhaps the storm would blow over yet. "All the pantheons know the dangers. Perhaps none will risk the consequences."

"No such luck." Ukitake was often very sick, but never had his face looked as grim as it did when he spoke his next words. "The message intercepted is not Aizen's invitation. It's a response; Sonneillon, a former Throne.* If deities as highly ranked as the Third Choir are seriously considering Aizen's offer, we may infer three things."

Ukitake's sigh carried the wariness they all felt before he continued on. "One, Sonneillon probably consulted the Morning Star* before agreeing to Aizen's terms. A lieutenant would not commit his legions without his general's consent. To them, this is probably a test run. If this alliance is even remotely successful, and if we do not _completely_ remove Aizen's method for breaching the natural divisions of the spirit realms, it is almost certain the threat will grow exponentially in the future."

"Two," Shunsui reluctantly began, "the offer Aizen made _is_ serious. It is unlikely even he would dangle promises in front of the likes of Lucifer and Apep* without being able to at least partially prove his word." He shook his head. "The disappearance of Inoue Orihime is very…timely. It is likely her abilities are directly related to how Aizen plans to accomplish his goals."

"Three," said Unohana quietly, "more than Sonneillon have probably already acquiesced to the offer." Most would mistake her expression for calm, even call it serene. But Shunsui knew her as few did—as only those in this room possibly could—and he could tell by the barely perceptible narrowing of her eyes that she was calculating strategies, figuring odds. Quietly, she was preparing for war. "It will be difficult to determine the number, rankings, and affiliations of all that heed his call, but we will certainly be at a disadvantage if we cannot respond in kind."

When the final occupant of the room broke his silence, his voice carried the gravity of centuries. "We must invoke the Oath," said Yamamoto.

Shunsui raised his fingers to the bridge of his nose, as if that gesture alone could erase the pain of the migraines his future self would experience before this business was over. They had all known from the minute the message had been recovered that it would come to this. Indeed, it was the reason that this group of four—the most senior members of the Gotei 13—had held this preliminary meeting in private. It was only they that new of the Oath's existence, and of its importance to all spiritual worlds.

It was Shunsui that gave voice to the concern he knew was on everyone's mind. "It is not certain they will come. The Oath is an understanding, not a binding contract."

The Oath was an agreement, a pact, between the heads of all pantheons. It stated that no interference between pantheons would be tolerated, regardless of any noble intentions trespassers might have for doing so. The need for such an understanding was plain; most deific hierarchies maintained a shifting balance between two polar opposites: good and evil, light and dark, order and chaos. Though competition was always fierce between these factions, it was _necessary._ The belief structure of the associated religions themselves usually hinged upon the struggle. It was _temptation_ that made virtue clear. It was _fear_ that made bravery a challenge. The dark without the light was terrifying. The light without the dark was flat.

Thus, no outside "assistance" was permitted to either faction of any pantheon, least the balance be tipped to one side and the entire system topple—and no god, anywhere, knew what would happen if it did. Even in the countless apocalyptic dogmas—Armageddon, Ragnarok, the incarnation of Kalki*—the dark aspects were never really obliterated, but simply kept from rising up to overthrow the light.

However, this pact between the gods further stipulated that if incursions between realms _did_ occur, all spirit realms had a responsibility to assist in putting the transgressors down. The promise of such a show of force was a strong deterrent, but whether the promise would be kept remained to be seen. It was always possible that other pantheons would stay entrenched in their realms, prepared in case the opposing faction took that opportunity to strike.

The Oath had not been tested. There had never been a need. Most spirit realms simply had no interest in the others, and until now the means for any significant number of powerful deities to cross realms remained out of reach.

"Some will heed," said Unohana. "They have to. The honorable will realize that there is more at stake than Soul Society, and _everyone_ has an interest in keeping the human world safe." If the human world crumbled, if Aizen made hollows out of the lot of them, there would be no one left to worship any gods, after all.

"The better question isn't _if,_ it's _how,"_ said Shunsui. _"_ Cross-dimensional travel isn't just forbidden, it's bloody difficult. If they're unable to help us, it makes very little matter if they'd be willing."

"It is not completely impossible," said Unohana. "Demi-gods that were previously mortal suffer fewer side effects in other realms. It is the result of their lingering connection to human world, where all reiatsu patterns are permitted and intertwined."

"Yes, but that connection fades the longer the spirit exists as a demi-god, and the more powerful they become," said Ukitake, shaking his head. "Though, travel to Soul Society might be easier than most, since we _all_ were once mortal."

"Psychopomps," said Shunsui. "Other death gods. They're our best gamble. Consider the fact that movement between spirit realms and the human world is generally done by death gods. Cross-dimensional travel is our _function_ , albeit generally only to Earth. And out of this purpose, death gods generally have the highest tolerance for foreign reiatsu."

"It will still prove extremely difficult for the powerful ones," said Unohana. "Remember that, whatever method Aizen has concocted to transport his allies, we do not possess it, or anything like it."

"No," said Ukitake. " _We_ don't. But perhaps Urahara—"

"Ukitake," intoned Yamamoto, interrupting his suggestion.

"Yes, Genryuusai-sensei?"

"Draft a message informing the other pantheons of the situation. Specify that the conditions of the Oath have been met. Do not beg their help, do not demand their assistance, but make it clear that they will be expected to fulfill their obligation."

"Yes, sensei."

"Unohana. Arrange a Captain's meeting for first light tomorrow morning. By then we should have our responses and will start assigning squads to retrieve our allies."

"Yes, Yamamoto-sama."

"Go, now. Both of you." As they filed out, Yamamoto fixed his gaze upon the one remaining person in the room.

"Shunsui."

"Yes, Jii-san?"

"Though he is an exile, our need is dire. I would like you to speak with our prodigal son about how he intends to be of service in this conflict."

Shunsui rose to obey, straightening his hat. "Yes, Jii-san."

* * *

**_Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 1 / Karakura_ **

"JUST WHAT AM I TO YOU, ANYWAY?!" she roared. She could not believe it. This was not happening. There was no way he could simply brush her off like this, like lint off a sleeve.

"Aren't I your friend?! Aren't we nakama?!" Her chest felt compressed and her neck muscles corded with tension at the force of her screams. The bright, burning anger was the only barrier she had between herself and the doubt that had thrust its way into her heart at his baffling reaction. Had she only imagined that they were close? Could it be she was the only one who thought they had once been best friends?

No. Impossible. Memories of a thousand battles fought side-by-side rose up. "Countless times I've seen you in trouble, and countless times I've helped you out!" She did remember it. She _did._ But then why…why didn't he? Didn't it mean anything? Didn't he care about her at all?

Orihime was gone, but it was not until this moment that she felt _truly_ alone.

Fierce anger was spiraling into confused hurt. It simply didn't make sense. _Someone you care about, you don't…_ "You don't…you don't hide things…from someone like that," she finished aloud. _You don't._

She lapsed into silence, her vitriol anger simmering in Keigo's arms. Her eyes dropped resolutely to her shoes, refusing to look at Ichigo's face. He had taken much from her in these last few minutes; if he were to see the tears forming, glimpse the vulnerable cracks she could feel, the loss of that final façade just might make her go berserk.

Nevertheless, she could feel his eyes on her for a few brief moments before he rose up.

"Sorry," she could hear him saying. "Keigo, Mizuiro, take care of Tatsuki." At any other time, these words and their implications would have sent her through the roof. But with everything that had preceded them, they were like pin pricks next to knife wounds; they didn't stir her. "And from now on, don't associate with me." Without sparing a glance over his shoulder, he silently walked away.

In a few hours, when Tatsuki was brooding, she would think that the most infuriating part of this encounter was that he didn't even have the decency to quicken his pace as he left—like an acknowledgement that he was in the wrong and should be leaving the scene of the crime. Instead, he kept his gait unhurried, uncaring of the gathering spectators. As if it was socially acceptable to publicly betray a friendship.

At that moment, however, Tatsuki just thought it gave her more time to get in some choice words, desperate as they were.

"Don't you walk away from me!" she yelled, straining in Keigo's grasp. "Don't you dare! Do you hear me?!" Her voice rose in pitch as he neared the door but did not turn.

"THEN RUN!" she roared. "Run, and see if I don't chase you down, you bastard! See if I don't—"

"He's gone, Tatsuki," Keigo voice sounded almost as miserable as she felt.

She twisted out of Keigo's grasp. "He's an ungrateful dumbass, and I'll shove those words down his dumbass throat!" She _would._ She was not weak, and she refused to be powerless. She would find a way to ram his idiocy right back in his face.

"I _know_ Arisawa, but…" Keigo made a second grab for her, but she knocked his hands away with a snap of her wrist. "Arisawa, we have to leave the hallway _now._ The teachers are going to be here any second!"

Realizing he had a good point, but not in the mood to indulge him with an acknowledgement, she forcefully stomped down the hall to the stairwell leading up to the roof. Somewhere behind her, she could hear Keigo following at a distance and Mizuiro trying to calmly explain an edited version of events to the assistant principle; within seconds, the sound of the howling wind at the top of the staircase drowned all other thoughts and noises away.

* * *

He walked out of the school with a steady gait and a carefully blank mind. He thought only of the next step forward, both in terms of his feet and his plan to leave for Hueco Mundo.

It had been like this ever since he first realized Inoue had been kidnapped, and a seeping chill had washed through his bones. If he let his mind linger on any of the thoughts that were trying to force their way in— _what are they doing to her is she even still alive why didn't I see this coming_ —then he simply wouldn't be able to function, and _that_ would only make rescuing her impossible. The gentlest girl in the entire world was at the mercy of monsters. If he didn't shut out everything but what was on the path straight ahead of him, he knew he would drown in his guilt.

Thinking of her gentleness made his mind leap to a girl that was not so gentle, the evidence of which was written in the blood dotting his sweater. He attempted to steer his thoughts away from the open wound called Tatsuki; he failed.

 _Of all the stupid, ridiculous..._ If he gave himself time to reflect on it, he would have had to beat his head against a brick wall for not seeing that Tatsuki was spiritually aware. _She could see the Shinigami badge, for fuck's sake. She_ told _me that she could see it. And I just assumed it was broken? Why the hell didn't I…_ He broke that line of thought there, knowing where it led. He hadn't seen because he hadn't looked. With the non-stop roller coaster that his life had become, he had barely spent any time at all with his "normal" friends. With so many others urgently clamoring for his attention, they had been relegated to background by default. His mind strained, realizing he couldn't recall a single thing about what was going on in their lives this past month. The thought of it now shamed him.

But not as much as his actions today did.

Over eleven years of friendship, he and Tatsuki had had more than their share of knockdown, drag-out fights, complete with emotional and physical damage. But this was not like when they got mad at each other and he called her a flat-chested tomboy. This was not the time she told all the guys at school that he wet the bed for a brief period when he was 7, and it was _nothing_ like the time she found a porno magazine under his bed and busted his lip for being a pervert. It wasn't something bandages and an apology ice cream sundae could fix.

He had seen the look on her face just after he had denied her plea, no matter how quickly she slammed down a mask of rage and thrown a punch. He couldn't _un_ seeit. He may as well have stabbed her in the heart, and wiggled his fingers in the wound.

Truth was, he didn't tell her to butt out so that he could keep her ignorant of the spirit world; from the minute she had confessed she was aware, it couldn't have been clearer that she had a part in this world, whether he liked it or not. It was not even that he was trying to push her away so that she didn't worry about him and Orihime. He wasn't mentally challenged; the feelings he had seen on her face were exponentially more painful than worry could ever be.

No. He had done this on purpose. Because after eleven years of friendship, Kurosaki Ichigo _knew_ Arisawa Tatsuki. Tell her that she couldn't, shouldn't, or that you wouldn't _let_ her do something and it was as good as done. Tell her you're on a rescue mission and she'd claw your eyes out before she'd be left behind. Tell her you're trying to save her, she'd tell you to worry about saving yourself; she's fine, thanks.

No, the only sure way to keep her out of a conflict was to find a way to make her _decide_ she didn't want any part in it. Try to shove her out and she shoves back. You had to give her a reason to _want_ to leave.

Hating his guts just might be a good enough reason. If he'd hurt her as badly as he thought—if his actions had been insulting enough to earn her disgust with him and his friendship—then she might back away from the issue long enough for him to slip away without getting everyone else tangled in the mire. She was stubborn, so she'd probably come back around for round two eventually. But by then he would already be gone and have left her with no way to follow.

He couldn't fool himself, though. It wasn't for her own good. It was for his. Because Kurosaki Ichigo knew Arisawa Tatsuki, and the truth of the matter was she'd _rather_ join the battle and die a bloody, brutal death—and if she joined them with no powers to speak of, she would die, he was certain—than sit and wait helplessly for them to _maybe_ come home. In Hueco Mundo, she would die badly, but satisfied. In Karakura, she would boil and seethe with hatred, burning up the last of their friendship, but she would be _safe._ Tatsuki, Keigo, and Mizuiro would probably all curse him for a bastard, but they'd be safe. Perhaps it was selfishness on his part, to want them alive at the cost of their feelings, their friendships. But he honestly couldn't see another way to save them.

Of course, he hadn't an inkling of a clue of what to do about Tatsuki and the others when he returned. But living with their eternal disdain was better than living with their corpses. He would suffer it, if he had to. Though he sincerely prayed that wouldn't be the case.

 _She will forgive me,_ he tried to keep repeating. _When I bring Orihime back to her, she'll understand what I had to do. She has to_. But even in his own mind, the words sounded more desperate than certain.

As he turned the corner, drawing ever farther from the school that housed his friends, he was at last able to shut down the section of his mind that agonized. What was done was done. Rehashing it would not get him to Hueco Mundo any faster. The only thing that could get him to Hueco Mundo was Urahara.

Which was why he was headed for the shopkeeper's store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 2: Any criticism, critique, praise, or censure is encouraged and readily accepted with open arms. If I wrote something that made absolutely no sense, or was wicked cool, by all means drop me a line. Thanks!
> 
> Mythology Notes:
> 
> Thrones: Angels are broken up into a hierarchy that consists of nine choirs. Those are, in order from the highest on down: Seraphim (seraphs), Cherubim (cherubs), Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels, Angels. Personally, it has always seemed strange to me that cherubs are much more highly ranked than Archangels. In any case, angels from all nine choirs participated in the Fall, so they retain that rank as Fallen.
> 
> Morning Star: Another name sometimes used for Lucifer. Lucifer essentially means "bearer of light/light bringer," and the 'Morning Star' (which is actually a planet, Venus) can be seen about 3 hours before sunrise, essentially heralding the sun.
> 
> Apep: The personification of evil itself in Egyptian mythology—in other words, the head god of their "dark" deities. He is often portrayed as a type of reptile, such as a crocodile or a serpent. Later in the mythology, Set assumes more the role of the head "baddie," but they never quite fully merge into one entity.
> 
> Armageddon: The prophesized final battle between God and Satan, in which the devil will work through the Antichrist. There's a lot of different takes on this, so I'm only going to include this most general explanation here.
> 
> Ragnarok: The Norse take on the end of the world, in which the forces of Chaos (Loki, his children, the Giants, etc.) will battle against what are essentially the forces of Order (the gods of Asgard, like Odin). More to come on this in future chapters.
> 
> Kalki Avatar: In Hindu mythology, the tenth and final Avatar of Vishnu, the head deity of the Hindu pantheon. This incarnation will come to end the current age of misery, Kali Yuga.


	3. The Low Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 1: Select portions of the dialogue are drawn from manga chapters 239 and 240 (and I believe I flop between the OneManga and Maximum7 translations-not that those exist anymore anyway).

> _****Chapter 3: The Low Road** ** _
> 
> _Oh, you'll take the high road_
> 
> _And I'll take the low road_
> 
> _And I'll be in Scotland before you_
> 
> -Loch Lomond
> 
> Folk Song; Original Author Unknown

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 1 / Karakura** _

He left his body in Kon's care, with clear instructions to avoid Tatsuki, Keigo, and Mizuiro at all costs. If anyone— _especially_ Tatsuki—came around to resolve the earlier fight, Kon's presence in his body would only compound the disaster. Either Kon would spill his guts about everything, or the mod soul would pretend to be him. Tatsuki, no doubt already suspicious, would surely see through the ruse; whether Kon-pretending-to-be-Ichigo attempted to argue with her further or apologize, all scenarios ended in Tatsuki pounding his deserted body into liquid.

And anyway, he wasn't about to let Kon explain or apologize to any of his friends as his proxy. It was his responsibility, and he would do it himself. _Never mind that I have no idea what I'd say._ He'd ford that river when he reached it.

Upon rubbing the back of his borrowed head, Kon had found scalp lacerations still oozing blood and did not argue. Ichigo left him to take care of the wounds; if he had asked his father to stitch them before he departed, there would be questions that he did not want to answer. Then he'd _never_ be able to leave.

When he was in sight of the shop, he was unsurprised to see Urahara leaning against the exterior, a lit pipe dangling from his fingers. Almost like he had been waiting for him.

"Welcome," said the man in clogs and a hat. "I was thinking it was about time you showed up, Kurosaki-san." Suspicion confirmed.

Ichigo decided he would take the bait. "Why did you think that?"

"You thought that I might know 'The Way to Hueco Mundo,' right?" Again, no surprise here. There had been many times that Urahara seemed to know what a person was thinking _before_ they thought it.

When Ichigo didn't respond, Urahara drew from the pipe he was holding and released the smoke in a long, lazy exhale. Leaning further against the building, he continued, "I had feared that Aizen might be gunning for Inoue's abilities, so I took her out of the battle." An expression ghosted his scraggly face that may or may not have been regret. "I was too late. Taking her feelings into consideration and not removing her sooner was my mistake.

"It is for this reason that I intend to assist you any way I can." The look on the man's face was difficult to decipher. Nevertheless, Ichigo knew instinctively that the words were genuine.

"Then…you _are_ able to open a portal into Hueco Mundo for me to pass through?"

"No."

The simplicity of the denial actually prevented Ichigo from responding for a good ten seconds. And then, "WHAT?!"

Urahara only chuckled and waved his fan in front of his face. "I used to be able to open the portal the arrancar pass through—Garganta. However, since Inoue's disappearance, that opening has been reinforced from the inside." The head within the stripped hat tilted slightly to the side. "Someone doesn't want you following, Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo clenched his hand tightly, until his fingernails were drawing blood on the inside of his palm. It was not enough to keep him from an outburst. "Then why the hell did you say you'd help me?! What the hell was that all about?!" The unnatural calm he had been maintaining was cracking, and the fear and anger beneath its surface was leaking through. _I did not come all this way to hear that there's nothing I can do. That Inoue's stuck there forever. That I alienated my friends for nothing. Like hell I'd accept all that._

"Calm yourself, Kurosaki." With much effort, Ichigo did—though the insufferable, knowing smirk on the other man's face did not make it easy. "I said _I_ could not open a portal. However, lucky for you, I happen to know that there is another entrance. Harder to reach, but just as reliable once you have managed to find it."

"Tell me," he said immediately, the command in his voice nearly outweighing the request.

The fan came back out and hid Urahara's face. "Ho, ho. 'Tell me,' he says. Very well. But first, are you aware that Soul Society sent out a call to other death gods, beseeching their help with the Winter War?"

Though annoyed that Urahara had changed the subject, Ichigo's mind couldn't get past the part about "other death gods." "What other death gods? Are there…are there more squads aside from the Gotei 13?"

"That is not what I'm referring to, Kurosaki. Much more _other_ than that." His head tilted, "You didn't think that people in kimonos performed soul burials on the Egyptian pharaohs, or the Vikings, did you?" The man's expression read, _You are so naïve._ Truth was, it had never really occurred to him. But now that it had been brought to his attention, he couldn't deny the absurdity of such an assumption. Talk about an anachronism. _But, if it's not Shinigami…_

"It's not necessary to go into too many details now," the shop keeper continued, "but know this: when it comes to _Death_ , the realms and the gods are just as diverse as the cultures of the people living on this earth. For the most part, these worlds are separated—divided by forces that are difficult to overcome. But Aizen has found a way…he has found a _person_ …that can help him around these obstacles."

"Inoue," growled Ichigo. "I see." But he didn't, not really. How could Inoue's powers possibly work to transport beings across dimensions? "But how…"

"Do not concern yourself with the specifics," said Urahara. _Pft. He probably just doesn't want to take the time to explain it_ , thought Ichigo. _It doesn't matter, as long as this conversation ends in a portal to Hueco Mundo._ "The important bit is this. By-and-large, Soul Society does not have the same capability. At least, not in terms of capacity. We cannot ascertain a limit to Inoue's ability, so we can only assume it is limitless. If that is the case, the size of Aizen's forces will only be restricted by the willingness of others to join his cause.

"While we are far more constrained, we _have_ managed to secure the means for a small number of powerful allies."

While Ichigo found all this moderately interesting, he failed to see how any of it provided him with a passage to Hueco Mundo. _Doesn't Urahara understand that I'm on a time limit here?_ He could feel his impatience growing like a creeping vine, wrapping up spine.

"You may be asking what any of this has to do with you getting to Hueco Mundo."

Ichigo blinked.

A shake of the man's head. "So _impatient._ Listen, Kurosaki, if they planned on killing Inoue, she's already dead. But that scenario is extremely unlikely. Aizen _needs_ Inoue. If they are to utilize her power, they need her to be alive, and relatively whole. Thus, you have some time to rescue her. And you had better keep that in mind, because the only open road to Hueco Mundo is a rather long one."

 _Patience? Is he_ kidding _?_ "Even if they need her alive, it doesn't mean that they won't…they could be torturing her, for all we know! Don't you realize that every minute she's there—"

"Yes," said Urahara, and for the first time during this conversation, Ichigo could hear dead-seriousness in his voice. "I do. But I also realize, as you do not yet understand, that this is the _only choice._ And either you will jump through every required hoop in its own time, or you can wait for the Winter War, and take the chance that all the invading Shinigami are targeting Inoue as a Soul Society traitor and not as a Hueco Mundo captive."

The stare that passed between them was flinty and sharp, but Ichigo could not deny the sense of these words, infuriating though they were.

"Fine," Ichigo relented, still not quite understanding why it tasted faintly like defeat. " _Fine_ , damn it. What do I have to do?"

He couldn't be sure, but he thought Urahara was smirking. "Down at the river banks, under the bridge that Kurosawa Street passes over, the fabric between this world and another is worn a little thin. Tomorrow, when the moon is at its apex in the sky, an ally from that spirit world is going to open the rift from the inside. She is much too old and powerful now to cross even into the human world—and _I_ am too powerful to cross into hers. That is where _you_ come in, Kurosaki.

"You, still being human, should be able to cross dimensions without difficulty—as long as you do not release your zanpakuto. Once there, you will give her an artifact of my design that will allow her to come into the human world, and Soul Society, without difficulty."

Something didn't sound right. "I thought you said Soul Society does not have the same capabilities as Aizen in crossing spirit realms."

"We don't. Whereas Inoue can reject the repulsion effect created between two foreign reiatsu patterns when they meet, the device I have invented _converts_ it. It's quite a handy little creation, if I do say so myself. However, since the reiatsu anomaly doesn't actually disappear, use of more than one of these artifacts at a time would result in an uncontrollable ripping of the fabric of the universe."

Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose. It seemed like the world continued to just get more ridiculously _doomed_ every hour of his life. "Did you just tell me you created something that could _destroy the universe_?"

"Why Kurosaki, how like you to focus on _that_ part of the story," said Urahara, not answering the question.

"Whatever. I don't care," said Ichigo, throwing up his hands. "I _can't_ care, because I'm still waiting for the part where I get to Hueco Mundo."

Urahara drew on his pipe and continued, the smoke drifting out of his mouth. "Once she has received the artifact and crossed through into the human world, her colleagues will guide you to another gate."

"I can get to Hueco Mundo through their world?"

"No."

Almost unconsciously, Ichigo reached for the hilt of the sword across his back.

Urahara brought out his best goofy smile. "Now, remember the conversation we had about patience, Kurosaki. It will serve you well in the future—on this trip especially. You see, many of the Underworlds, as they like to call themselves, are connected to others—but not to _every_ other. Some are connected to only one. It's simply a matter of trudging through a few until you come to the one that is connected to Hueco Mundo. And at least one _is_ connected to Hueco Mundo, rest assured. Not even Aizen would be able to seal it completely."

"Why are there doors between the…Underworlds…if the powerful gods can't pass through them?" For so many supposed restrictions on transdimensional travel, there seemed to be a lot of loopholes.

"I think I'll let them explain, Kurosaki. After all, it would be a shame not to take advantage of the opportunity to learn all that you can about your hosts."

The other man's smile was a little too knowing, and it made Ichigo suspicious. "And why's that?"

" _Why?_ Because knowledge is power, Kurosaki." Before Ichigo could do more than raise an eyebrow at that statement, Urahara plowed forward. "I have already arranged a few connections along the way to help guide you. All you have to do is show up at the Kurosawa Bridge tomorrow night. I'll give you further instructions then. Are we in agreement?"

 _What choice do I have?_ It's not like the situation had ever really been in his control, anyway. "Agreed. Tomorrow, at the rise of the moon."

At Urahara's nod, Ichigo darted away into the night, uncertain where he would go for the next 24 hours, since he could not go home. It was just as well. Something about the sound of tomorrow's journey made him suspect he should get used to living like a rolling stone.

 _One gear set in motion,_ thought Urahara, _and here comes the next set of cogs._

Urahara waited the few seconds it took for Ichigo to disappear from his sight, then longer still for his reiatsu to fade. When its last flicker had receded, he called the other occupants of the alley out from their hiding space.

"He's gone. Mind coming out now?"

One, two, three, they toppled from behind the garbage cans lining the retaining wall opposite his shop. _If they were snakes, they would have bitten you, Kurosaki. You're still terrible at sensing reiatsu._ He would have to make sure the boy worked on it in the future. Though it was understandable that his own massive reiatsu blinded him, it was a vulnerability that would sooner or later leave him open to an attack.

"When did you catch on?" asked the tallest. He was dusting off the knees of his pants, and avoiding the shopkeeper's eyes. The stance matched the nervous tone of his voice.

"Long before you decided that the garbage cans would be a good hiding place. Why do you think I kept Kurosaki out here instead of inviting him in?" He exhaled a plume of smoke, and watched as they sorted themselves out.

The shorter boy was stepping out from behind the cans, but the girl stayed where she was, the glare in her eyes hard an unyielding. _Yes,_ her eyes said, _why?_ Arisawa Tatsuki. He had known such a moment would come. Indeed, for all three of them, this moment was _too long_ in coming. Although they had not yet manifested powers, he could feel the strong, underdeveloped current of reiatsu in each of them. It had been clear for many months now—especially in the girl, and he was beginning to suspect something even more interesting was at work there. Frankly, while Kurosaki might be "blinded by the light," he was surprised that the other humans, or even Rukia, had not seemed to notice.

He had been patiently waiting for something in the group dynamic to give—an explosion of power from one of them, or one of the "empowered" to finally notice and confess the situation. And when that finally happened, where else would they bring them but to his shop? But he could not force their hand. They had already made it clear they did not want anyone put in danger that didn't "need" to be, with their constant insistences that the memories of their friends be erased. If he was going to get any kind of cooperation, he knew they would have to realize for themselves the inevitability of this moment.

And yet, in spite of everything, they still hadn't. A confrontation like the one he had heard about today was also something that he expected, though admittedly he had not foreseen the confronter being flat-out denied. With the kidnapping straining everyone's nerves, he wasn't surprised.

It made no matter. Fate had put them in his hands, regardless.

He took another puff of his pipe, and tried to make his voice light, disarming. "Well, well. As usual, Kurosaki-kun is too naïve. He thinks that just by acting a bit cold, he can suddenly cut off his relationship to you all." He made it sound like a reassurance, but he was counting on them to have already figured out Kurosaki's intentions.

"Arisawa Tatsuki. Asano Keigo. Kojima Mizuiro. Welcome to my humble shop." The fan came out and hid is face. "What can I do for you?"

The boys startled ever so slightly at the use of their names, but the girl was not even fazed. In fact, to Urahara's amusement, she took the initiative to tell him so.

"Don't think I'm surprised that you know my name," she said. Harshly. Too loud. Anger, right from the start. _This will be interesting._ "I know we've met before."

 _As I suspected._ "Oh?" said Urahara, the fan still aflutter. "I believe I would remember such a pretty girl."

The comment, meant to unsettle her, did not have any effect. "I know you've been erasing my memories. _Our_ memories," she accused. Urahara thought he could hear her teeth grinding. "Do you deny it?" Her fists clenched at her side in subtle threat.

_Yes, it's exactly as I thought. Her reiatsu is too powerful for the erasures. Her memories have resurfaced._

He thought he might as well tip his hand. "I wouldn't say we've _met_ before, Arisawa-san. You _were_ unconscious both times." Though the boys made surprised faces, the girl held her face in a stone mask of anger. But she couldn't hold back the look in her eyes. The one that said, with equal parts triumph and rage, _I knew it._

The boys fidgeted, looking with uncertainty between the pair of them. There was a silence in which he could tell she struggling with the instinct to lash out. He could _feel_ it in the reiatsu that danced in the air around her, low-level, but with a hint of something _else_ that he would have to ponder. He was impressed that in the end, she prevailed over herself. Kurosaki would not have.

"You asked what you could do for us?" she said, her voice under strained control. "Well, you could tell us everything. Everything that's being hidden from us. Everything that has almost cost us our lives _multiple_ times."

Urahara respected the gravity of her stare by giving her a serious expression in return. "The people you hold in your heart have gone out of their way to keep you innocent of the dangers the spirit world holds. Would you really throw their efforts back in their faces, just to satisfy your curiosity?" The words were harsh, but he had to be certain. If they only wanted reassurances from him, if they were only after the truth for truth's sake, they had come to the wrong place. He would only offer what they wanted if they intended to _use_ it.

He found his answer as her face first drained pale and then flooded a bright red. "CURIOSITY?!" she might have lunged at him if the taller boy hadn't stepped forward to hold her back. Even as it was, the smaller one had to grab her other arm. "CURIOSITY?! My best friend is kidnapped by a sadistic, supernatural bastard who wants to use her for evil, and you call my fear for her _curiosity_?! A boy I've known my _whole life_ acts like I'm crazy when I confront him about it, and _then_ tells me to get lost when I catch him in the lie, and you call my anger _curiosity_?! I almost _die_ on my knees outside my dojo, and you call the burning sensation I feel in the pit of my stomach when those _things_ are in this world _curiosity?!_

"Well I call _you_ a scum-sucking bastard! And I'll have my answers from you if I have to strain your clotted blood through my teeth to get them!" Even in the boys' grasp, she lifted a fist to shake it at him. Not for the first time tonight, he saw clear parallels between her and Kurosaki, with her near uncontrollable outbursts and stubborn spirit. _Why must I be cursed with two of them?_

He held his hands up in front of him. "I surrender, Arisawa-san, I surrender." Not that she was in any way calmed by these words. He turned to the boys. "And you?"

Asano rubbed the back of his head. "Those weird guys that stayed at my house…these things we've been seeing. They're not…they're not just going to go away, you know?" The boy looked up into Urahara's eyes for the first time that evening. "We're not gonna stop being in danger just 'cause we're oblivious to it. We're just gonna keep stumbling into it, making ourselves _more_ of a nuisance if we don't know what's going on."

Kojima nodded his head. "We may never be able to fight," it did not escape Urahara's notice that Arisawa _huffed_ in the background at these words, "but at least we could help by keeping other normal people out of the way. And ourselves too."

Urahara wondered how it hadn't dawned on these kids that they were clearly _not_ normal. Maybe the girl tasted it, but the boys still did not understand what their newfound awareness meant. _I supposed I can't expect them to draw conclusions from the nothing they've been told._ Still, couldn't they feel they were _different_ , even without knowing precisely what was going on?

He mentally sighed. This would be a difficult conversation. He would have to tailor it in a way that would convince them to maneuver _themselves_ into the proper places for what was to come—without knowing it. _Difficult, but a far cry from impossible. Don't kid yourself, Kisuke, you thrive on a challenge._

"Very well," he said aloud. He folded up his fan and pointed it at the entrance to his shop. "Step into my office."


	4. Gazing at the Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 1: In this chapter, we touch base with all three realms. This was the first time I wrote POVs for quite a few of these characters, so if your OOC meters go off, please let me know.

> **Chapter 4: Gazing at the Stars**
> 
> _I spend my time gazing at the stars_
> 
> _As silently it snows inside my heart_
> 
> _Someone said that life brings_
> 
> _And then takes_
> 
> -The Winter Wake
> 
> by Elvenking

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 0 / Hueco Mundo** _

It was always night in Las Noches.

When Orihime was very little, the dark had terrified her. Her parents, never concerned enough with her wellbeing to bother with her childish fears, had simply ignored her broken sobs and left her to cower under her covers. Hiding beneath the frayed comforter, she would try to fill her mind with thoughts of flowers and robots and adventures.

She usually failed.

" _When you are not fulfilling Aizen-sama's orders, you will remain in this room. Meals and other essentials will be provided for you here."_

And then Sora had come, her strong knight upon a white horse, and as with so many other aspects of her life, he had taken the broken fragments of her fears and pieced them into a beautiful mosaic that sparkled in the light of his love for her.

Late one evening, he had led her out under the night sky. With her arms clamped tightly around his neck, he coaxed her to look up into the inky black above her. She could still clearly remember the star-strewn sky, like a million-billion glittering diamonds thrown up into a canopy of black velvet. For hours and hours Sora sat in the grass with her, pointing out the constellations, helping her trace new ones (she saw a lot of robots in their twinkling patterns), and spinning tales of the men and the gods that had found their way into the heavens.

" _You will never to leave this room unless you are being escorted by myself or another arrancar of Aizen's choosing. You will under no circumstances venture into the hallways. Escape is quite impossible, and if you should foolishly decide to disregard Aizen-sama's orders and make an attempt, you will be senselessly placing yourself in grave danger."_

Just before the morning began to creep into the sky, her brother had wrapped his arms around her and said, "Only in the darkness of night can we see the stars, Sweetheart. Don't ever forget that the dark brings more beauty than beasts."

After that day, the darkness had ceased to be a frightening enemy and become a secret friend instead. Smooth and sleek, it coiled around her ankles like a black cat when she played capture-the-flag. It draped across her shoulders like a woolen mantel when she walked home in the early evenings of winter. She apologized for hurting its feelings with her tears, and it accepted with a friendly slide of shadow across her skin.

As long as she lived, she had never forgotten Sora's words, or the strength they gave her.

" _Suitable clothing has been left on the couch behind you. You will change your attire and place the garments you are currently wearing at the door to be destroyed."_

But now, _here,_ she struggled to recall that strength. Everything about this place was a perversion of something beautiful, and the darkness that crept around the corners—even in the brightest artificial light—was no exception. No matter how stark and colorless the room they had left her in was, no matter how clean and pure the white of their robes, every last thing about Hueco Mundo felt like thick dark tar; menacing in its nature, no matter how inanimate it was reported to be. For the first time in what seemed like eternity, the dark was strange and foreign to her.

It had _other_ friends.

" _Three meals will be prepared for you each day. You will consume all the food provided for you. I will return in 3 hours with your evening meal, after which you will be provided with suitable facilities with which to see to your hygiene._

The man that stood before her was himself a perfect example of the subverted beauty Hueco Mundo offered. Lithe and porcelain-pale, he was like a delicately crafted statue, all perfect angles and proportions. His face possessed the seemingly fine-boned structure that most women would trample each other for, and the dark hair framing it was like rough silk sliding down to his shoulders. Emerald eyes blazed with the colors of life. Growth. Rebirth.

But it was a lie. She knew that the delicate china skin was really heirro, harder than tempered steel and cold as marble. His verdant green eyes did not hold life, or warmth, or even evil and menace. They held _nothing_ , and were infinitely more terrifying in their dispassionate gaze than they ever could have been with the fire of hatred. But the biggest lie of all was the tear tracks staining his face, endlessly running down his cheeks as if he could feel the world's grief. He did not feel grief. Or joy. Or love. He felt _nothing._

"Do you understand these instructions?" No. She did not understand. Now and forever, she would never understand the type of greed and avarice that led the world down the road she now gazed upon. The path of war, destruction, suffering and pain. She would never understand a man like Aizen, and she couldn't begin to fathom such a man as Ulquiorra, who _followed_ him. No, no, no.

"Yes," said her mouth.

Without further comment, he turned on his heel and strode from the room, the long ends of his coat snapping like tails behind him.

She stood before the window, and looked upon the crescent moon hanging in a starless sky. Their absence made no matter; the darkness may surround, but the stars were in her heart. Combing through her memories, she began to recite the stories her brother told her long ago. She is a powerful hunter, and the giant scorpion that killed him. She is a great bear, a hydra, a lion, and in these forms she knows no fear.*

Digging deep, she recalled as many stories as she could, lining them up in her mind until she couldn't see the end of the queue.

She would need them all.

For it was always, _always_ night in Las Noches.

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 1 / Soul Society** _

They arrived in his office exactly when he expected they would. Knees and palms on the floor, their voices tripped over each other as they each tried to plead their case. The only thing that even remotely surprised Byakuya about this situation was that they didn't start elbowing each other for silence.

In all, it was a rather amusing scene—not that his amusement would show on his face. But it didn't matter how they pleaded. He had made his decisions long before this moment.

"Stop," he said, and instantly they both fell silent. He mentally shook his head. The way fear, respect, and a little bit of resentment mixed together in each of the people before him was something that both made perfect sense and confused him utterly. He wondered which feeling would overpower its fellows in the span of the next few breaths.

"I received orders to travel to the human world and ensure that you returned to Soul Society as commanded. I have completed this task and was issued no further orders concerning the matter. As far as that mission is concerned, my responsibilities are fulfilled." The look of surprise on their faces was almost comical, but he did not allow himself the indulgence of a grin.

One did not smile before they crushed another person's hopes.

"However, while I am no longer concerned with the presence or absence of the Shinigami officers at large, I am officially giving you, Lieutenant, notice that you will be accompanying me on a mission in two days' time to collect a death god from another spirit realm."

There was a second in which Byakuya could tell they had not processed what they had been told. The exact moment realization struck came in concert with a sharp, agitated reiatsu spike from Renji and a shallow gasp from Rukia.

"What?" said the red head. Surprisingly, his tone was neither hostile or outraged, but simply confused, disbelieving. _He understands the implication, then._

"To be clear, so that there is no doubt, I will reiterate myself this once. You will abandon any travel plans you may have been considering, and prepare for an interdimensional journey across spirit realms to pick up a colleague two days from now."

Without waiting for protest from Renji, he turned to Rukia and continued, "Since you are not in my squad, I have received no orders directing your comings and goings. They are therefore of no concern to me."

Byakuya thought he could hear the younger man's teeth grinding together, but he did not ask any of the questions they both knew he was trapping behind them. _Why Rukia and not me? How can you send her alone?_ Since the questions were not asked, they were not answered.

"Do you understand, Lieutenant?" Byakuya steeled his gaze, discouraging any argument. The more quickly Abarai came to grips with the situation, the more smoothly things would go.

The teeth continued to grind. "Yes, Captain," he said, looking at the ground. _So he will not argue,_ thought the noble. _Now there is only to make sure that he does not disobey._

"Good. You are dismissed."

* * *

Rukia could practically feel Renji's anger, confusion, and worry on the surface of her skin in the lingering glance he cast her as he strode out the door.

That was fine; she knew his hostility wasn't directed at her.

She kept her position kneeling on the floor. Beyond the fact that she had not been dismissed, she needed to understand, as best she could, what her brother was thinking. Denying them both she expected. But restricting Renji and letting _her_ do as she pleased? _I have received no orders directing your comings and goings. They are therefore of no concern to me._ The words sounded harsh, but the reality was anything but. This was the closest her older brother would ever come to giving her permission to follow Ichigo to Hueco Mundo.

Once they were alone, she waited for anything more he would say to clarify the situation. Considering the cryptic way he had been conducting the conversation so far, she had no doubt she would have to go fishing. She did not have to wait long.

"It is inadvisable that a person traveling to strange lands should ever travel alone," he said without emphasis. "I am to understand a group of travelers are leaving from beneath the Kurosawa bridge tomorrow evening."

 _Do not enter Hueco Mundo alone,_ Rukia translated. _Meet up with Ichigo and company tomorrow night at the Kurosawa bridge._

He produced thick cloak from his desk drawer, and laid it neatly on the desk in front of him. Almost immediately, he turned his back and continued to speak. "A person traveling in sandy desert terrain should always wear a cloak to help withstand the ferocity of dust storms."

_Hueco Mundo has a harsh, sandy environment. Take this cloak for protection._

She slid a hand over the material, and realized that he would not turn until she had taken it, and stowed it out of sight. _He is not breaking the rules,_ she understood, _he is bending them. He has not given me anything, or told me anything. He has merely been speaking out loud._

He didn't turn to say what came next. "Extreme caution and adequate preparation should always be taken when traveling."

_Be careful, Rukia._

She nodded her head, and wondered if her and her brother would ever be able to speak plainly to one another. "I'm sure all travelers recognize the dangers, and take precautions."

_I will._

He still didn't turn to face her as the silence stretched, so she rose and walked to the door.

"And one more thing," he said, his voice carrying a strange quality she had never heard in it before. She slowly turned her head to face him, her body still poised to open the door.

"It would be obvious to a blind man that my Lieutenant would follow you to end of this world or any other, if he were allowed to do so. But _he is needed here."_ The inflection of the statement was only slight, but to Rukia he might as well have been holding up an enormous sign with his intentions written upon it.

Byakuya wasn't keeping Renji in Soul Society on a cruel whim. There was a very specific reason that Byakuya wouldn't let Renji be part of the team going to Hueco Mundo, and whatever it was he wasn't willing to share it. Moreover, whatever it was was _so_ serious, her brother was actually deigning to ask her for her help.

 _He is needed here._ The unfinished portion of that sentence was, _Make sure he stays._

"Yes, Nii-sama," she said and bowed her head. "And also, the person that stays home? That person should be careful as well." Silently, she slid from the room.

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 1 / Karakura** _

Tatsuki had to hand it to the man in clogs. She had asked that he tell them everything, and sure enough, the man had prattled on for hours. It was all she and the boys could do to drink the tea offered to them and keep up.

Though she was still positive he was keeping a number of secrets behind that silly fan, she could not deny that the fractured picture she had drawn in her mind was now a fully painted canvas. Hollows, shinigami, arrancar, the hougyoku, the Gotei 13, the Seireitei…it felt like her mind was so full that nothing more would ever fit inside of it.

The part that had interested her the most was when Urahara described the powers Orihime and Chad had developed. She had tried to hammer him with questions about them, but the man only shook his fan and told her to hold her questions for the end. _As if this were some sort of classroom lecture._ As soon as she thought it, she chided herself for sneering at the thought. After all, wasn't that what she was aiming for in the long run? For him to train her? _If not him, then who? This man is our best and only hope._

He finally drew his explanation to a close with the current state of affairs; Orihime had been kidnapped for her abilities, and Ichigo intended to storm the gates of Hueco Mundo to rescue her. Soul Society was arming up for a war that they predicted would commence in a little over one month's time, and a variety of foreign gods were adding their strength to both sides. They only thing she couldn't clearly see was her role in it all—the role she _knew_ she had.

Because come hell or high water, she wasn't just going to sit around wringing her hands in worry.

"Well?" The shopkeeper was looking at her, and she belatedly realized she had become lost in her own thoughts when he had finally deigned to take questions.

She cleared her throat. There was only one question that mattered. Only one answer that meant a damn thing. "I'm going to be blunt," she started.

"I was not aware you were ever anything but blunt, Arisawa-san," the smiling man interrupted.

"If the shopkeeper would let me finish," she said pointedly. She was not sure why, but he seemed to be trying to rile her up—almost like he was prodding her to get a reaction. She did her best not to give him the satisfaction, but it was not conducive to her showing the amount of respect she probably should to a person she was going to ask for a favor. "You said Orihime and Chad are normal humans who developed spirit powers. Well, we can see all these ghosts, and hollows, and shinigami, so that means that we're going to develop powers too, is that right?" _You had better say yes._ "I mean, as far as I can tell, we're even further along then they were when they…" What the hell was the word for it? _Was_ there a word for it? "…when they changed."

"'Probably' is the best answer that I can give you. It isn't for certain, and the only way to find out for sure is to train you to master your reiatsu. When you can control it, any abilities you may possess will reveal themselves."

 _Well, at least that's something._ She mentally took the word "may" out of the sentence and cast it aside like the junk it was. Instead, she clutched at the word "train." "Are you telling us that you're going to teach us to do that?" She couldn't help but feel the hope rise in her chest with this thought.

"No."

The simplicity of his denial almost _did_ force a violent reaction from her, but she managed to choke it back. "Excuse me?" she said, more calmly than she felt.

"Believe me, I know that all three of you have a vast amount of potential stored within you, but I simply don't have the time required to train you properly." He folded his fan and set it aside, and even this soon in their meeting Tatsuki could tell he was being serious. "I have a number of important of responsibilities that must be seen to. I know that _you_ know I am not exaggerating when I say that the well being of every last person in this town relies upon the successful completion of certain tasks that have been laid before me. I am simply not capable of teaching you at this time."

His words were simple, honest, and direct—everything that Tatsuki had been looking for in an explanation, and she couldn't deny their validity. An air of purpose hung about this man like a cape, and something coiling in the pit of her stomach said that hindering him would be disastrous. But then why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel so terrible?

 _Because I didn't want_ just _the truth. I didn't want just words. I wanted to be part of it._

She did not give up so easily. "Isn't there someone else?" She tried to sound reasonable and not desperate. "From what I see there are _always_ strange people running around this place, and we're not going to be choosy—"

"I'm afraid not, Arisawa-san."

"An apprentice, or another student of yours—"

"Arisawa-san."

"Or a low-level shinigami—" her voice was acquiring the sharp edge that it got when she thought the world was being unreasonable and that she should respond in kind.

"Arisawa," said Keigo, reaching for her sleeve. She did not like his tone. It sounded too much like, _Let it go._

"There's got to be somebody!" she roared at everyone, and slammed her open palm on the table top in front of her. The cup of tea she hadn't finished overturned and skittered onto the floor, leaving small rivulets of liquid running over the table and onto the carpet. For a nearly a full minute, she stared at the tea, draining away onto the floor, and thought she knew how it felt.

When she looked up, Urahara was not looking at the mess she had made in his home, but rather at her. His eyes felt heavy, as if he were gauging her, and she had the uncomfortable sensation that they were dragging over her skin. Probing. Looking for _something._ Then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

"I understand that you aren't keen on waiting, Arisawa-san. But you have my word that I will do everything I can to help you—to help all three of you—reach your full potential. You will just have to be a little patient in the mean time."

She looked him in the eyes then, and knew that he was telling the truth. Like a crushing weight, the reality of the situation was dawning. There was nothing she could do. No amount of screaming, or fighting, or pleading was going to change the fact that no one was going to help them.

If that was the case, she was done here. She stood up abruptly. "Thank you for your time, Urahara-san, and thank you for telling us the truth. We do not want to keep you from your work any longer." She didn't want to stand in this room and be told to wait one second longer. She started for the door, not sure if the boys were going to follow or not.

"Don't run off so quickly, Arisawa-san, I have one more thing to tell you."

She turned on her heel to look back at the man, his hat shading his eyes, and repressed the urge to snap at him for implying she was running away. "As you heard me tell Kurosaki, I will be assisting him to cross into another spirit realm tomorrow. I know that you're already planning to spy on his departure. And that's fine with me, as long as you give me your word you will not attempt to follow him."

"Do you really think I'd be that stupid?" She could already see the fight that she and Ichigo would have if he found her following him. And while she we was up for pounding him flat, an alternate, possibly hostile spirit realm was not the time or place for it. Besides, she didn't really want to speak with him right now, anyway. _Admit it, the real reason is that you_ know _you're too weak,_ her mind whispered. She ignored it.

"No, but I think you may be that stubborn, and even more loyal. But, between you and I, I won't be sending him alone, anyway. All three of you should show up at the bridge, but remember to keep your distance. Kurosaki probably won't be able to sense you if you stay out of his line of sight."

Tatsuki was still standing at the door, but she turned her body back to the room to make her final request. "Fine, I won't interfere or get in the way tomorrow. But I want your word on one more thing."

"And what is that?" he asked, fan fluttering.

"I want your word that the memory erasures stop. Now. I want you to promise that not you, or anybody else will try and take our memories of this away." Her voice got a shade darker, "Because I'm warning you, if someone should try, I promise you that I'm not going to let them. And then I'm going to come wring answers out of _you."_

"Ho, ho. You have my word, Arisawa, that I couldn't erase your memory even if I wanted to."

That was good enough for her. "I'll hold you to that," she said while opening the door. "Tomorrow," and stepped out of the room.

The sun was rising, they had been in the store so long. She sincerely hoped her parents hadn't noticed her sneak out yesterday, and thought of ways to sneak back in without their detection.

She looked back at the two boys walking just a step behind her, and they stared back at her. For all that they were mostly silent during the meeting, a resolute promise passed between their eyes.

_Looks like we'll be training ourselves._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, commentary, critique, and thoughts in general are welcomed and embraced. Thank you for reading.
> 
> (*) Mythology Notes:
> 
> All given stories of the constellations are for the Greek tradition, though I recommend that you check out the stories told by other cultures as well.
> 
> The hunter: Orion – Orion was an excellent hunter and a giant of a man who was said to be able to stand on the bottom of the sea without wetting his hair. Interestingly, this constellation is known as Vyudh in Indian mythology, which also means hunter.
> 
> The scorpion: Scorpio—Scorpio was a giant scorpion sent by Artemis (aka Diana) to kill Orion for his excessive boasting that he would kill all the wild beasts of the world. When Scorpio rises, Orion sinks—as if he's running away.
> 
> The great bear: Ursa Major/The Big Dipper—When the ever-lustful Zeus fancies a woman named Kallisto, Hera (Zeus's wife) turns her into a bear. Later, her son Arcas almost shoots her while he's out hunting, not realizing the bear is his mother. Zeus sweeps them both into the sky to prevent him from killing her. As a side note, there are a great many cultures that see this constellation as a bear.
> 
> The hydra: The Leraean Hydra—A many headed serpent that was killed by Hercules as one of his 12 labors. In some descriptions, two heads arise on the beast for every one that is cut off.
> 
> The lion: Leo, the Nemean Lion—A lion with impenetrable skin that was killed by Hercules as one of his 12 labors. Because its skin was impervious to any blade or arrow, Hercules had to strangle it to kill it, and the only thing that could cut its hide off was its own claws.


	5. Prayers in the Streetlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue between Ichigo, Ishida, Chad, and Rukia in the first section is taken (with some rearrangement) from chapters 239 and 247 of the manga. If I'm kinda skimpy in that section's writing, it's because I'm drawing that part from these chapters, and am kinda assuming people are already familiar with them. Enjoy!

> **Chapter 5: Prayers in the Streetlight**
> 
> _On my knees in the night_  
>  Saying prayers in the streetlight  
> -Gangsta's Paradise  
> by Coolio

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 2 / Karakura** _

If you had told Ichigo a few years ago that he would spend a miserable night sleeping in a tree—in his spirit form—because he was afraid that going home meant any number of people would try to stop him from entering an evil domain on a rescue mission, he would have pointedly ignored you with a scowl more severe than usual. Yet there he was, a testament to the unpredictability of the universe, walking to the Kurosawa Bridge with twigs clinging to his hair. The dark circles under his eyes indicated just how little sleep he had actually achieved, and, if possible, his appearance was even more haggard and drawn than on the previous night.

_Damn tree._

He had waited in a deserted forest outside Karakura until it was time. Originally, he had intended to spend the time training, but later thought better of it—no need to announce to the entire spirit world where he was. So training was tabled for planning, planning dissolved into waiting, waiting slid into brooding, and within the first couple of hours he had worked himself into an impossibly miserable mood. It was almost a relief when at last the moon was on the rise.

"What a pleasant evening for interdimensional travel, Kurosaki-san," called Urahara as he drew closer to the base of the bridge. "Too bad it doesn't appear to have put you in a good mood."

Ichigo was about to tell him where he could shove that comment when a voice spoke up from the darkness underneath the bridge. "That _is_ a pretty long face Kurosaki."

He knew that voice. "Ishida?! Why are you here?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" The other boy stepped into the moonlight. "To go to Hueco Mundo."

He opened his mouth to protest when he heard the fall of heavy footsteps behind him. He didn't have to turn to know who it was, but he turned to face his friend just the same. "Chad!"

"We heard the news from Urahara-san," came Chad's deep voice, "and we're going too." His tone said, ' _And that's final_ ,' more clearly than if the tall boy had actually spoken the words.

But their clear determination didn't change the fact that they weren't powerful enough to survive the fight Ichigo had in mind. _It's not like refusing their help will be the hardest conversation I've had to face in the last few days, anyway._ Chad was soft-spoken, but direct. It would be best to approach this in a similar fashion. _When I point out how dangerous it is at their level, they will both listen to reason._ He hoped. He desperately wanted to avoid another scene like yesterday. He didn't think he could run around all that well if he was weighed down with any more guilt.

"You can't. I appreciate the sentiment, but…" It was difficult to say, difficult to hurt more friends, but they weren't strong enough. That was the truth. "With your power…"

He had virtually no time to react, and his only warning was Chad's voice calling his name. As a result, it was only unthinking impulse that allowed him to turn his body enough to get his sword in the way of Chad's mighty right fist.

The concussive force of the impact left his ears ringing, and it was more than obvious that Chad's power had increased exponentially. But the _real_ tell was in the fact that Chad had _not_ used all of his strength in the blow. He could feel it.

Chad had been practicing when he wasn't looking.

"Even after that, is my power still not enough, Ichigo?"

He should have been pleased. He should have been goddamned cheerful that his friend had increased his power by such a degree. But all he could feel was the dull shame of having underestimated him, and the growing dread that this only meant his friend would be following him to his doom.

Chad must have seen this in his eyes. "Believe in us, Ichigo. Don't carry the burden by yourself. That's what nakama are for."

He held his shoulders in a tense stance. It was difficult to look Chad in the eye. After his fight with Tatsuki, the word 'nakama' filled him with shame. Of course, Chad was right. Nakama shared challenges, faced them together. This had been demonstrated between himself and a long line of friends in various forms of combat. But you couldn't help carry a burden that was out of your weight class.

He couldn't dwell on it for longer than a second, as a tiny fist lunged out of nowhere and connected with his chin. Hard.

"FOOL!"

He wiped the blood from under his nose and looked down into violet eyes. "Rukia?"

He didn't have time to be surprised by her entrance before she pounded him with questions. "You were going to enter Hueco Mundo on your own?! You weren't going to wait for me to return?!"

His expression was sheepish. He supposed "yes" wouldn't be a satisfactory answer, obvious as it was. "But…you left like that, I didn't know if you were gonna come back or—"

"Of course I was going to come back!" she yelled in his face. "By any means necessary! Renji and I—"

She cut herself off abruptly, and huffed in frustration. Ichigo's eyebrows drew together in confusion. _Renji? Is he here too?_ He looked around, but no tall red head jumped from the shadows to punch him upside the head.

When she spoke again, it was in a much calmer voice. "Renji and I planned that from the start. He had to leave on an emergency mission, so he'll meet up with us later. But he _is_ coming to your side. Just like I'm here now." The resolve in her voice brooked no doubt about that fact.

"Why didn't you wait for it? Why didn't you have faith in that?" She looked him directly in the eyes, and he saw no challenge there. Only a question. "We are your nakama. Aren't we, Ichigo?"

There was that question again, for the third time in two days. He took a deep breath, and accepted what the universe must be trying to tell him. _All right. I get it. This is not my burden to bear alone. And I can't shove everyone away and pretend that it is, not even to keep them safe._ He sighed out the breath. _They won't_ let _me._

He thought about the others, and about what it must have been like to be aware of all this ridiculous stuff happening without anyone to talk about it with. Bearing that burden alone. _Tatsuki, Keigo, Mizuiro, I'm sorry._ It was alright. He would tell them when he came back. No time to dwell on it now.

"Yeah, you're right," he said to everyone. "You're right." And in spite of his misgivings, knowing he would not be facing this journey alone made the crushing fear he had pushed into the corners of his heart ease, if only a wee bit.

"Yes, well," said Urahara, who while clearly pleased that everything had come together, also wanted to move things along. He wasn't the only one. "I've a lot of instructions I need to give you all, and time is of the essence. The gateway will soon be opened. So gather in and listen up."

The four travelers converged in line so that they were all more-or-less facing him. In moving around, Ichigo noticed that Rukia had picked up a light-colored cloak somewhere. He made a mental note to ask about it later.

"When you meet the elder death goddess on the other side, there are a couple of formal pleasantries you should observe," his fan flipped out to hide his face. "She will address each of you in turn. Do not speak until she has spoken to you. When you have been acknowledged, introduce yourself using your full name, and pay her a compliment."

Ichigo frowned. "A compliment? Why?"

"I have no time to teach you proper manners, Kurosaki-san. Just be sure to pay her a compliment at the appropriate time. It can be anything, as long as you genuinely mean what you say. She will know if you're not being truthful." Urahara lowered his fan so that they could all see his face. "Which brings me to my next point. As I have informed each of you, you might have to pass through a number of gates in order to get to Hueco Mundo. Over the course of your journey, you will undoubtedly encounter gods much older than most of the Shinigami captains. Many of the old gods have special abilities, particularly in their own realms. For example, your initial contact is particularly sensitive to even the most minor deceit. From this point forward, you should be careful not to make assumptions about anyone you meet."

"Are you saying that we should expect possible attacks from the other pantheons before we reach Hueco Mundo?" the flinty edge of Rukia's voice was not lost on Ichigo. She was as geared up for a fight as he was.

"Not as such. But imagine, for an instant, being caught in a lie by a god of truth. Even if the lie is a harmless one, you've insulted someone in their home, and given them a reason to mistrust you. And evenwith manners as bad as _yours_ , Kurosaki, you should know that's bad form when they are helping you save your friend."

Everyone absorbed that bit of information, until Ishida broke the silence. "What about the device you mentioned earlier?" Apparently Hat-n-Clogs had filled them in on the situation in the Seireitei as well.

"Ah, yes," said Urahara. He produced an object wrapped in cloth roughly the size and shape of a liter bottle from somewhere in his robe. "After the introductions, you will give her this artifact. Once she has put it on, she'll leave you with additional guides and step through into our world."

As Ichigo stepped forward to take the wrapped object, Chad spoke up. "And these guides will take us to the next gate?"

"That's right. On each leg of the journey, appropriate arrangements for additional guides will be made for you along the way." Ichigo didn't like the sound of that. He had been ready to plunge head-first into the uncertainty of Hueco Mundo, but the prospect of traveling through many such unknown worlds, and placing himself in the hands of mysterious, _powerful_ strangers was not increasing his comfort level.

But it certainly wasn't diminishing his resolve, either. _I knew the path would be hard when I chose it. Inoue's a captive in Hueco Mundo. I'm going to get her back._ He paused in his thoughts, looking upon the friends that had so recently forced their way through his stubborn resolve to go alone. _No,_ we're _going to get her back._ The thought made him feel stronger, more hopeful.

Until something Urahara had thrown at him hit him in the eye.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?!" he shouted. The surprise had nearly caused him to drop the artifact.

"For getting lost in thought while I was still giving you instructions," said the shopkeeper cheerfully. When Ichigo's eye finally stopped watering, he could see Urahara had produced satchels seemingly out of nowhere and was handing one to each of them.

"But you didn't have to—" his angry retort was cut short when he looked down to see a glint of gold in the grass. "What the hell is that?" He picked up the shining piece to discover it was a heavy gold coin, the face on the front long since worn to nothing but a vague, smooth shape.

"It's a gold drachma,*" said Urhara as he handed Ichigo his bag. Looking up again, he could see the other three turning similar coins in their hands.

"What is it for?" asked Rukia.

"Maybe nothing. When and if you need it, you'll know."

"And the bags?" asked Chad. He had opened his and produced an energy bar from inside it. Ichigo peered into the one he was handed to see a pile of similar bars, as well as some dehydrated foodstuffs and bottles of water.

Urahara snorted and pulled out his pipe from somewhere in his sleeve. "Tramping around through spirit realms, and none of you know even the most basic myths. Don't any of you read?"

"Let me guess," started Ichigo. "There's no food in the Underworlds?"

The shopkeeper shook his head as made a "tsk-tsk" noise. "On the contrary, food will probably be delicious and plentiful. But 'Rule Number One' of the Underworld concept is 'Don't eat the food.'* Of course, this is a bit of an exaggeration. Arrangements can always be made for suitable foods. But your best rule of thumb is to only eat or drink items that were given to you by persons you trust and have been assured are safe. Wherever you find yourself without such resources, use what I've provided."

Ichigo nodded with the others, and began to feel his impatience grow. There were enough emergency rations to keep them alive for two weeks. This meant that Urahara expected the mission to last at _least_ that long. That had to leave _now. The more time we waste…_

Just when he was about to ask Urahara when they could get the show on the road, Ichigo began to feel a distinct buzzing sensation travel over his skin.

"Ah, she's arrived," said Urahara. The air shimmered a bit in the darkness beneath the bridge, and a thin, bright line slowly appeared. _It's almost hypnotic_ , thought Ichigo as its brightness became almost blinding. Then, so suddenly almost everyone present jumped back a pace, a loud crack rent the air and the line spread into a portal of light seven feet high and nearly six feet across.

"She won't be able to keep the door open for long," said Urahara, his voice sounding loud in the silence that followed the portal's opening. "Hurry and get going. And don't forget what I've told you."

Ichigo stared at the shopkeeper, and just for a second, he thought he saw something there that was earnest and not calculated. It looked like it could have been hope. It was gone before Ichigo could blink. "Thank you, Urahara."

Urahara smiled. "Good luck to all of you."

Without further thought or preamble, Ichigo dove forward into the portal. _I'm coming, Inoue._

* * *

**_Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 2 / ?_   
**

The first thing that Chad noticed when he stepped inside the rift was the dryness of the place, as if all the humidity that had ever hung in the air had been sucked out long ago. The second was the layer of sand that scraped between his feet and the stone floor, making everything feel gritty and just _harsh_ in general.

The third was the woman standing twenty feet in front of them.

_A goddess,_ he thought. And in the feel of power radiating from her, he knew instinctively this was correct. She was not a goddess in the sense that Rukia was, or even Captain Unohana with her quiet, immense reiatsu—goddesses without a doubt, but spirits of mortals elevated above their peers in death. In contrast, the woman before him was not now, nor had she ever been, a part of the mortal world. She was old when the makings of humanity were young.

Or maybe the feeling of _other_ was just intensified because she was so very tall. She had to stand at least six feet high, and while he had known a few others approaching his height, none of them had ever been women. Long black hair cascaded down her shoulders and over a white, tunic-style dress that stood in contrast to her dark olive skin. Wide bands of gold encircled her neck, wrists, and ankles above bare feet.

He shifted his eyes to his companions and was relieved to see that he was not the only one openly staring. Ichigo in particular was managing an expression somewhere between bewilderment and wariness. The woman slid obsidian eyes to him and broke the silence.

"Do you know me, child?"* she asked Ichigo. Her voice was as smooth and sharp as a whetted blade, and seemed to bounce and resonate over the stone walls that surrounded them.

Caught off guard, there was a beat of silence before Ichigo got out a quick, "No." There was another awkward pause while she looked expectantly at the boy, until it seemed that he finally remembered Urahara's instructions and said, "My name is Kurosaki Ichigo. You're…uh…you're very…uh…lovely." His faced turned a shade of pink that Chad could only describe as sickly.

She reached forward and placed a hand over his heart, and Chad felt a pang of sympathy for his long time friend when the boy almost jumped out of his skin at the gesture. _He is used to strangers swinging swords at him, not this._ To Chad his discomfort was obvious, but if the woman noticed it she did not react. "You are not one of mine,* Kurosaki Ichigo, but you are well met." Just when he wondered how Ichigo would respond to _that,_ she turned away from him and fixed her stare on Chad.

He was easily five inches taller, yet she seemed to tower over him as she took a step closer. _How does she do that?_ Chad wondered if staring a Shinigami captain in the eyes felt similar. "Do you know me, child?" she asked, and her voice rang with the authority and wisdom of tribe elder. Unbidden, the memory of his grandfather surged forward. _How did she do_ that _?_

He met her gaze with a steady eye. Something was telling him he was being judged, and he did not want to be found wanting. He wondered if Ichigo had felt the same thing, and if that's why he got flustered. But in the end, he couldn't imagine Ichigo showing anything but determination in the face of a challenge. "I do not. I am Sado Yasutora," he said in his deep voice. He inclined his head. "You are a woman of great stature and poise."

A hand was laid on his heart. "You are not one of mine, Sado Yasutora, but you are well met." _Perhaps that means I pass._ In any case, he could detect the welcome in the statement, and he let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding. The woman moved on, and for the first time Chad caught a glimpse of a large, dark feather hanging from the tresses of hair at the back of her head. _I'd like to see the bird that came from._

"Do you know me, child?" she asked Ishida, and her voice was as straight and direct as a well-aimed arrow. He wondered if anyone else noticed the subtle changes in tone. _I wonder what she's the goddess of._

"No, I don't. My name is Ishida Uryuu. It is a great honor to meet a death god of your experience and wisdom."

A hand. A heart. "You are not one of mine, Ishida Uryuu, but you are well met."

She turned to Rukia, and gave the barest of pauses before asking her question. "Do you know me?" she asked. This time, her voice seemed to gently hint at sadness, like sympathy for a hurt long passed.

At first Chad thought he might have imagined variations in the woman's tone, until he noticed the way Rukia paused at her words. But she was a warrior, after all, and recovered quickly, "No. My name is Kuchiki Rukia. I am honored to meet a death goddess of another pantheon."

The strange woman's face continued to look faintly mournful. She reached forward to place a hand on Rukia's chest, but paused a split second before making contact, as if she might reconsider. The indecision only lasted a second before the olive hand came down to meet Rukia's kimono. In a voice so low Chad had to strain to make out the words, the goddess said, "Still, child?" She shook her head. "You are not one of mine, Kuchiki Rukia, and neither was he. But take heed of this advice I offer unto you. The desert is vast and harsh. Do not travel with water in your jug that you cannot drink. Pour it to the earth and let it nourish the plants if it cannot sustain you, and fill your vessel from the flowing streams nearby. For when those streams dry up in the cruel summer, child, you will never have another chance."

To say Rukia looked confused was an understatement, though Chad could see a trace of something that had nothing to do with bewilderment on her face. He might have imagined it, but Chad thought it looked a little bit like sadness.

The moment had passed and the woman turned to face all four of them. "You are all most welcomed to Duat.* I am Ma'at,* daughter of Ra, judger of men's hearts. I am the goddess chosen by my people and yours to receive the artifact and travel to your world."

Ichigo produced the cloth wrapped bundled and stepped forward. If there were some sort of formal words to be spoken, Ichigo apparently didn't know them, and instead he simply placed the object in her hands without comment.

The woman uncoiled the cloth and Chad caught a gleam of gold as she lifted the artifact up. It was a golden snake, beginning with a hooded cobra head, coiling around an empty center, and ending in a curled tail. It was not until she began to slide it up her arm that he realized it was a piece of jewelry, to be worn coiled around her bicep. For a piece made by a Shinigami, it matched the rest of her style quite well.

"I thank you for your services, Kurosaki Ichigo. I have arranged lodging and accommodations for you until you leave this world."

"Lodging?" came Ishida's voice. "I thought guides would take us to the next gate once we had given you the artifact." He was careful to keep his voice even and devoid of accusation, but Chad could still hear the impatience lacing his words. He could not blame him. _Inoue is waiting._

Apparently she could hear it too. "I understand that your mission is urgent, but the gates between Underworlds can only be opened during the full and new phases of the moon in your world. It will be four days before you can move on."*

Chad thought he could hear Ichigo's teeth grinding, but he wisely kept from an outburst. Rukia, ever the voice of reason, spoke up instead. "What will we do in the mean time?"

The woman smiled, and Chad could see her teeth. _Judger of men, indeed._ "Why, train, of course. I'm told that the enemies holding your friend are powerful, and their numbers and diversity continue to grow. While you await your departure, you will train with the warriors of our pantheon. I expect they will have much to teach you."

"But the side effects," said Rukia. "We won't be able to release our full powers here."

Ma'at actually snorted. "Young people. Always leaping to the end before they understand the beginning. Power is built like a pyramid, not an obelisk—the wider the base, the higher the peak. While here, you will be training extensively in your least released state. The greater your strength here, the greater your "full power" when it can be realized."

She looked like she might continue, until the door they had stepped through began to flicker and crackle with noise. "I must cross now. I leave you in the care of my sister. You have my sincerest wishes of luck for the rescue of your friend. This is not the last time we will meet."

Without waiting for a response, she smoothly stepped past them and through the portal, which closed seconds later.

For a minute, they all started at the space the portal had occupied. It was Ishida that voiced the question on everyone's mind. "Sister?"

A deep rumble echoed down the stone corridor towards them. Chad turned to the end of the hall to see a feline shape slink to its feet, just out of view in the darkness.

Why did he have such a sinking feeling of déjà vu?

* * *

**_Night Since Orihime's Disappearance: 2 / Karakura_   
**

Kneeling behind shrubbery along the roadside, Tatsuki watched the group step through the portal, and felt torrent of emotions storm through her chest. Fear for her friends, anger at her circumstances, shame for her weakness, jealousy of those deemed strong enough to go—they all rattled though her with such force that she had to reach a hand up to cover her eyes lest the boys see them welling with tears. The other hand clasped the plant life in front of her so hard she was sure the twigs had pierced her skin.

None of them spoke. None of them needed to.

They had arrived far ahead of the others, and been warned by Urahara not to leave until the god from the other side had passed through and departed with him; he did not want to take any chances that they would be discovered. Though mildly curious what sort of spirit was coming through the rift, the truth was that she wanted nothing more than to find a place to beat out her frustration on some unsuspecting training equipment. Even in this, she was denied.

So she did the only thing she could do. She pressed the palms of her hands firmly to the earth beneath her, the only stable thing left in her world, and took a few deep, calming breaths. She thought of the training sessions she and the boys had planned after leaving Urahara's, and let the though of action comfort her, no matter how little or how late it was. She would not give up. She wasn't made that way.

_I swear. To whatever gods are out there watching, to whatever gods can hear me and give a damn, I swear I will get stronger. So you better take care of my friends until I do._

The bathing orange light of the streetlamps flickered, and it felt to Tatsuki as if every nerve in her body was suddenly alert. Her first, wild thought was, _Crap, did something hear me?_ followed closely by, _Keigo is nudging me in the ribs._

"Holy crap!" came his low, urgent whisper. "Look at _her."_

The woman who stepped through the rip was striking in a way that Urahara supposed few were. It wasn't her beauty, or her stature, or even the power that seemed to radiate from her like light from a torch; she was not particularly unique in these respects, as there were plenty of women in Soul Society that could claim all three of these attributes in spades. Instead, it was the overwhelming sense of _time_ she carried with her, as if the history of the world held little mystery for her. He guessed it was to be expected—she had presided over the dead for more than 5,000 years.

Bare feet settled on the ground beneath the rip, toes wiggling in the grass. She lifted her arms into the light drizzle that had begun to descend from the heavens, and the voice that came out of her throat was dark like smoky quartz, dark like her olive-toned skin. "It has been a long time," she proclaimed to the sky. "It has been _too long_ since I have felt the Earth beneath my feet." Before he could stop her, or suggest that now wasn't the appropriate time to go for a swim, she had waded to her thighs in the nearby river, soaking the bottom of her white linen garment. It had been millennia since she last walked the Earth, and he expected something of the sort, but he still shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He did not look forward to bringing a dripping wet goddess in a see-through gown back to Yoruichi at the shop.

He waited patiently, face angled politely away, and after a few long minutes, she waded back out of the water and approached him. It did not escape his notice that by the time she did, her dress was dry again. "I am Ma'at, daughter of Ra. By the conditions of the Oath, I have come as a representative of my people to assist your pantheon in defeating the imbalance threatening the realms." Her Japanese carried a strange accent, but was perfect nonetheless. He let out a silent breath of relief, as his spoken ancient Egyptian was rusty at best.

"I am Urahara Kisuke, former Captain of the Goeti 13 and their current emissary. I welcome you on behalf of my fellows. We are honored by your presence and by the fulfillment of the Oath by your people."

She absently nodded her head, as aware as he was that the words were just a formality. They had already been in correspondence to make arrangements for her travel and reception of the artifact. After all, his written Egyptian was much better. _Drawing birds, snakes, and reed leaves are easier than kanji, anyhow._ "Now that the pleasantries are concluded, I'd like to compliment you on your creation," she said as she ran a finger along the golden serpent's head. "Functional and beautiful. I cannot feel any discomfort. Though I had expected something a little more…"

"Plain?" As if. Urahara Kisuke did not do things by halves.

"Discreet. I was worried it would be a tiny object, or a fragile one. As delicate as the power it contains." She tapped on the metal with a long finger. "Do not misunderstand my words. Better for it to be sturdy. I feared it would be something I could break or lose. This is much better than I'd hoped. But that means it cannot be _concealed_ either."

"Because of the nature of its purpose, I met with some restriction in its design. It had to be at least that large, and it had to coil around a portion of your person. Given this, I tried to match it to the infamous style of your people to hide it in plain sight. Since it's not readily apparent, it shouldn't be easily discovered. Or removed."

The woman's laughter was as dark as her eyes. "My sister might be the true warrior woman, but I doubt that the denizens of your underworld will find me easy prey, even if they do discover it."

"An understatement if ever one was uttered." He smiled and again drew his pipe from one of his sleeves. Business would not wait forever. "I hope it doesn't come as an imposition, but our trip to Soul Society must be postponed until tomorrow evening. A team from Soul Society is leaving tomorrow morning to retrieve another ally, and the Lord of the Crossroads has asked that we wait to rendezvous with them so that he only has to open the gate once."

"That old witch doctor?" She chuckled lightly. "I am pleased to know he has thrown his top hat into the conflict. I do not mind waiting of an evening. It will give us time to discuss a great many things I am curious about, such as what others have answered the Oath, who you suspect has thrown in with Aizen Sosuke, and why there are children staring at us."

Another man would have blinked at the non-sequiter, but Urahara had been waiting for her to bring them up. After all, the whole purpose of having them come was for them to be seen. "Those are some of Kurosaki's friends. The came to witness his departure." Which was the truth. One _had_ to tell the truth to Ma'at.

"From afar?" The disbelief in her voice was plain, and Urahara could hear her baiting him to tell her more. But did she see the hook that _he_ had cast?

"Kurosaki's friends have displayed a great potential in their spiritual awareness and reiatsu levels, but it is only recently that it has come to light, and therefore it has not yet amounted to any usable skill. They wish to accompany their friends, or at least assist them, but I have no available resources to spare towards their training. In the mean time, their friends would prefer they stay out of the altercation all together, which includes their presence at, and knowledge of, events such as these." He smiled faintly, "Obviously they disagree."

She pursed her lips in displeasure. "It has been my understanding that you need all the assistance you can muster. Under the circumstances, turning away eager students is unwise, and insulting to those that are making sacrifices to assist you. You are not the only Shinigami, Urahara Kiskuke. Surely someone else can instruct them. The Winter War will not commence for at least another moon. That is more than enough time to prepare them to assist as non-combatants, at least, or low-level fighters."

When he shook his head, it was with real regret. "Soul Society would not welcome more humans into the Seireitei only to turn the place upside down again. It took a full-out siege of Soul Society to gain Ichigo an almost begrudging acceptance, and his three current human companions as well. Now, one of those humans has been designated a traitor—no matter how false those charges are—and the rest of them have disobeyed direct orders and charged after her, at a time when Soul Society believes their strength is needed here. From Yamamoto's perspective, devoting Shinigami time to training kids that could very likely turn out to be just as troublesome is a waste. Without outside assistance, those three will simply have to wait until this war has passed."

"Outside assistance? You envision someone else training them, then?" She actually _harrumphed._ "You know that I am no warrior, Urahara Kisuke. That is not why you brought me here. I could not train anyone in combat, let alone in the ways of your people."

"Of course, Ma'at-sama. I'm afraid you have misunderstood. It was never my intention that you should train anybody—I would never presume to request more of you than we are already taking. In fact, it is far more appropriate that _you_ should be asking a favor of us. And I am sure that my colleagues in Soul Society would grant you any possible boon that is within their power, given the current situation, as thanks for agreeing to help us."

"A boon, is it?" Her sister might be the true warrior of the family, but when Ma'at smiled, she showed teeth. "You need not be coy with me, Urahara Kisuke. If you would like me to use my influence to persuade your people to taking responsibility for these children, you need only ask."

Let no one say Urahara did not have the good grace to look slightly embarrassed, even though there was not a single word in the conversation he hadn't anticipated. "I would not presume."

"Urahara Kisuke, you are not one of mine, but I know your heart. I know the rhythm of its pulse, and the face of the woman that lives within it. I know the dark spaces in its chambers that you cannot sweep away, and the look on your mother's face the first time you suckled from her breast. I know what it is you intend, because _I know your heart_.*

"And, more importantly, I know _theirs._ I can feel their longing and their frustration from here. It is insulting, knowing that there are beings sacrificing more than you can imagine to help you, and you are turning away your own who yearn to assist." Her words were harsh, but her tone was not. After all, she was the judger of men's hearts, and she knew he felt the same way. "I will speak with your king," she said into the silence that lingered after her pronouncement.

Urahara nodded, and thought about how much he loved it when a plan started to come together.

"Oh, there's one more thing," she said, turning to the shopkeeper.

"What's that?"

"Is there a reason all four children complimented me with they introduced themselves?"

It was difficult to hide his snort of derision, but he managed. "It costs one nothing to be polite."

She shook her head and smiled. "You made the orange-haired boy very uncomfortable."

"He'll be fine. And besides, when it comes to complimenting ladies, he'll need all the practice we can force upon him." _If he lives,_ Urahara's mind whispered, unbidden. _He'll get to use it if he lives._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mythology Notes:
> 
> Please note that a lot of references were made in this chapter that won't be defined here. That's because they're going to come up again as the story progresses, and will be explained when they become relevant.
> 
> Gold Drachma: A type of coin used in ancient Greece. More on this later.
> 
> Food of the Underworld: It is common in underworld myths that visiting mortals and immortals should not eat the food there, or they'll be bound there forever. One of the best examples of this is the story of Persephone and Hades. Hades, the god of the Greek underworld, kidnaps Persephone to his realm. Her mother, Demeter, the goddess of the Earth, is so upset with her loss that the Earth becomes barren. Zeus forces Hades to release her, but before she leaves the realm, she eats a pomegranate. Because of this, she is bound to return to underworld for part of every year. The time of year when Persephone and Demeter are separated the Earth is barren and withered with Demeter's grief—winter.
> 
> Do you know me? Older gods like to know they are remembered. They like to be recognized even more. Expect this question to be asked of humans when they meet up with gods that aren't widely recognized.
> 
> You are not one of mine. A polite acknowledgement that the speaker is not the death god that services the addressee.
> 
> Duat: The Egyptian underworld. More on this as the Hueco Mundo crew spend time there.
> 
> Ma'at: The Egyptian goddess of order, truth, and justice. In some stories, it was she who ordered the universe from the chaos of its creation, and she continues to keep it form slipping back into chaos. Her biggest ongoing role is in the judgment of souls in the underworld. Along with the other gods of the underworld (such as Anubis and Osiris), she weighs the hearts of the dead against her feather, which she keeps in her hair when it is not in use. For this reason, she is said to be the keeper and knower of mens' hearts. In this story, this is expressed as her knowing what is in another's heart, but to be clear, NOT reading their minds. This will be true of mortals and immortals even if they are not under her jurisdiction, though the stronger someone is the more difficult it would be (assuming they're trying to block her). More will be revealed about Ma'at as time goes on.
> 
> Full/New Moon: This is astronomy, not mythology, but just so everyone knows, there is either a full moon or a new moon (a new moon is when you don't see any moon at all) every two weeks. For the purpose of this story, you can open a door from an underworld to our realm at any time (death gods have to come and go as they please) but you can only open the door between underworlds during a new or full moon—every two weeks.


	6. To the Crossroads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is taken from manga chapters 248 & 262.

**Chapter 6: To the Crossroads**  
I went down to the crossroads  
Fell down on my knees  
Asked the lord above, "Have mercy now,  
Save poor Bob if you please." _  
-Crossroad Blues_  
by Robert Johnson*

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Hueco Mundo** _

Despite what he said the first night about returning with her evening meal, Orihime hadn't seen Ulquiorra after he left her in the pristine room that was her prison. Since then, the only people she had seen at all were the arrancar that brought her daily meals and escorted her to the bath—and they wouldn't speak to her, no matter how polite or talkative she was.

The first day, she sat in the solitude and thought up stories of heroic princesses that fought dragons, traversed unknowable labyrinths, and saved their robot friends from certain malfunction. She usually stopped weaving the tales just before the end, when the handsome prince swept the heroine off her feet for a congratulatory kiss. All the handsome princes looked like Kurosaki, and she did not want to think about Kurosaki right now. If she did, a cruel voice inside her head would point out that her chance to kiss him in real life had come and gone, and she'd wasted it.

The second day started out very similar to the first, until after breakfast. When she had been led to the large bathing room down the hall from her chambers and left to clean herself, she unconsciously had begun to hum. Random notes at first, but as she scrubbed her fingers against her scalp with the scentless soap provided, the tune turned into _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star._ From there it morphed into _Row Row Row Your Boat,_ and by the time she was drying off with a towel she was loudly humming the theme songs to her favorite television shows. Long after dinner had been finished, she was lulling herself to sleep with a song about the Peach Boy and tapping her fingers on the side of her bed for percussion.

Upon waking this morning, she decided that there wasn't any reason to hold back, and words for the songs fell forth from her mouth. The first song came out croaking and hoarse, having not spoken in two whole days save to say "Thank you," and "I'm finished." But after a few warm-ups, she started working her way through her favorites. She had gotten halfway through a song by Kimura Yumi when it happened.

"Surprising. It looks good on you."

After almost three entire days of near silence, with nothing but her own voice and the squeaking wheels of her food cart to entertain her ears, it was no wonder that she positively _squawked_ when Ulquiorra's voice rent the stillness behind her. No matter how flat or low-pitched his tone was, it was still like a crack of thunder sounding in an enclosed space.

Ridiculously, her first thought was of embarrassment that he must have heard her singing. _Has he been listening this whole time?!_ "How long have you been there?!" she blurted. She instantly regretted that _those_ were the first words she could stammer out. _It makes me sound like a naughty child._

"Spare me your incoherent bleating. It's annoying." And yet, he did not sound particularly annoyed. Or pleased. Or angry. Or _anything._ His words were cutting and cruel, but his voice held only the harshness of an arctic desert: a terrible, cold emptiness. Orihime wasn't sure which was worse—hearing him insult her with that flat voice, or being complimented in it.

Nevertheless, she couldn't say for certain if it was her statement or her singing that was the offensive "bleating" he referred to, so she simply held her tongue and looked at her shoes. _Sandals_ , she corrected herself. _My school shoes and school uniform were destroyed. I wear a Hueco Mundo uniform now._

She wasn't sure if the silence lasted an hour or only a minute before he finally broke it. "Breakfast time." She had never heard those words sound more like a command.

The food cart was wheeled in by a female arrancar whom she may or may not have seen with the cart before. As usual, it was wheeled to the lone table in the room and abandoned immediately by the driver, who did not look in her direction.

Ulquiorra, however, stood by the door as if he was carved from marble. _As still as marble, as cold, as pale._ His eyes were affixed to some blank spot on the wall, but she still felt observed, like an animal in a cage. She wondered why he was even there, but couldn't bring herself to ask.

Her stomach rumbled, and she decided that if he was here to watch her eat, she might as well comply.

Breakfast was a western dish. Scrambled eggs and some sort of food made from minced meat and potatoes.* A jug of orange juice _and_ a carafe of water. While not terrible, it was as bland ( _unimaginative)_ as all the food she had been fed so far, and was rendered even more tasteless by the fact that Ulquiorra's empty presence was lingering in the room like an oppressive, silent shadow. She set the western utensils down after consuming only half the meal.

His response was immediate and sharp. "You will finish everything that's been provided for you." His sudden statement made her jerk and knock her fork to the floor. Her hands still clumsy with surprise, she reached down to pick it up. Bent down, she took the opportunity to inhale a few deep breaths before turning to face him.

His eyes were now focused directly on hers, as if he could force her into compliance with his gaze alone. He probably could. But the fact of the matter was that her stomach felt jittery and sour, and if she put anything more in it she was likely to loose what she had already eaten.

She thought of Kurosaki, and of Tatsuki, and how they would bravely tell Ulquiorra that they were done with breakfast. _I am going to be here the rest of my life,_ she thought. _And I have control over nothing. But this is a tiny, insignificant thing, how much I eat. If I don't try and take it for myself now, I'll never be allowed to have it._

She thought of her friends, and tried to keep the waver out of her voice. "I can't eat anymore."

Ulquiorra was either oblivious to her valiant struggle, or ignored it. "It is your duty to preserve your life until Aizen-sama calls for you. Eat, woman."

She could almost hear Tatsuki's voice urging her on. She could picture how Kurosaki would not give up _._ "I-I've eaten more than enough to…to preserve my health."

"Shall I force it down your throat? Do you want me to tie you down and finish giving you your nutrition intravenously?" He was so calm, so serious, that she knew they weren't rhetorical questions.

"Is that why you're here?" She asked, staring at the offensive food and not his cold, empty eyes. Though usually finishing more than half, she hadn't fully eaten any of her meals. "Because I haven't been finishing the food?" She couldn't say what had made her ask it in the face of his threat, but it seemed like such over-kill, sending Ulquiorra to make her clean her plate. _Finish your vegetables, or the scary empty arrancar will come get you._ If she had been alone, she would have giggled at the thought. But his mere presence was enough to suck the hilarity out of the idea.

He was silent for a long few minutes, and when she chanced to look up she could see there had been a change in his gaze. Where it once was inscrutable as a steel wall, she could see the wheels turning in his mind. _What is the most expedient way to make her finish her meal?_

"Aizen-sama requires you to assist in the research being performed by the Octava Espada, Szayel Granz," he said. Apparently he had decided force-feeding was not expedient. She was almost relieved until she heard what came next. "Your assistance will be in the form of surrendering blood for his study."

"B-blood?!" she blurted.

"This meal has been selected with the nutritional content needed to prepare you for the task."

"B-but—"

"You will eat all that has been provided for you, and preserve your health in order to make yourself useful for Aizen-sama," he continued. "In both body and mind you are already his subject. That's what your wearing of those clothes means."

She looked down at her traitorous clothes. "…Yes, sir."

She could feel his green eyes burning a hole in her forehead. "Say it," he demanded. And for this first time, she thought she could feel some heat in his frosty voice. "For what purpose do your mind and body exist?"

Maybe she wasn't cut out for bravery, for she didn't know what action would serve courage more. To heatedly fly in the face of this creature's oppressive demands? To accept the consequences of the decisions and sacrifices she'd made? She didn't know. She wished Tatsuki or Ichigo were there to reveal the answer, but just as quickly took that wish back. _I'd rather they were safe at home._ "They exist for Aizen-sama, and for his will."

"Eat, woman."

With a shaking hand, she picked up the fork, and did.

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Soul Society** _

Renji pushed the conversation he'd had with Rukia as far from his mind as he could. He didn't want to think about it anymore, or the mish-mash of emotions that rose up when his thoughts strayed to it. Because in the end, it didn't matter what she had said, or what he had said, or what he didn't have the guts to say; the fact was, she was on a mission to Hueco Mundo and he was not.

_Get a fucking hold of yourself, Renji. You know damn well she's a Lieutenant level fighter—at least—and knows how to take care of herself._ _And it's not like she went alone._ He repeated it often, but that reassurance was of little comfort. Though his head knew she was a capable warrior, and that Chad, Ishida, and Ichigo would watch her back with everything they had, his heart knew that if it wasn't enough, he would blame himself forever for not ignoring her request to stay behind.

He shoved it all back down. When he was done with the mission, he would join up with them. He didn't know how yet, but that was irrelevant. He would _find_ a way to go to their side. For now, he had to focus on the briefing that he'd been given yesterday— _while they were leaving—_ by Captain Kuchiki— _who kept me behind…Grraaagggh! Stop thinking about it!_ He knocked his fist on his forehead for good measure, and vaguely hoped that no one could see him now and solidify the general conception that Abarai Renji was an idiot.

_Don't focus on her, focus on what she said about the mission,_ he told himself. _What's so special about it that_ I _, specifically, have to be there?_ Rukia had made it plain that she thought Renji was essential to her brother's mission. He told himself that she must truly believe it to be so, or she wouldn't have asked him to stay. _She would have helped me sneak out._ But what value his presence had for the task was not apparent from the briefing his captain had given him last night.

_The head of the Norse pantheon has requested that Soul Society send an envoy to retrieve their chosen representative,_ Kuchiki had said.

_Why?_ he had asked. So far, they were the only ones to request an audience.

_Because their leader would meet with us before pledging a warrior to our cause, and he cannot travel here,_ was the answer. Seemed simple enough—go to the realm, meet the boss of the pantheon, pick up the designated god, and go. But no matter how he turned it over in his mind, he still did not understand. He supposed it was appropriate to send a Captain to meet the head of a pantheon. He even saw the sense of sending two Shinigami together into foreign territory instead of one alone. But curse it all, why did it have to be them? Why did it have to be _him_? _It's not you, it's your damnable luck_ , his mind said.

He let out a breath—possibly of frustration, possibly of resignation, but most likely both—and started his feet towards where he was to meet his Captain. He didn't understand it, and he sure as hell didn't like it, but he had promised Rukia that he would stay behind and complete this mission—and give it his all, if it came to that.

He looked upon the blank, inscrutable face of Kuchiki Byakuya, waiting for him at precisely the time and place he said he would, and forcibly reminded himself of that promise, trying to keep his resentment for the situation off of his face.

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Karakura** _

The Seireitei certainly counted some unique characters in its number—Mayuri easily came to mind—but the man waiting at the meeting place carried a presence with him that was unlike anything Renji had felt anywhere in the two worlds he'd known.

The man's skin was so dark it was difficult to discern from the surrounding night. It blended smoothly with the jet-black suit that hung from his body, its long coat tails snapping behind him in the breeze. Renji would not have been able to see him at all in the darkness if his face wasn't in blunt contrast to the rest of his body—a bone-white skull grinning obscenely under a silk top hat. _Is that paint? Bone?_ Renji shifted uncomfortably as he thought of how it resembled a hollow's mask.

_We can't open gates into other realms as removed from ours as these,_ Captain Kuchiki had told him during yesterday's briefing. _Even opening the tear into Hueco Mundo isn't easy, and the reiatsu of that place is in tune with ours._

_Then how do we get to…uh…_

_Valhalla,_ Kuchiki had said.

_Yeah, Valhalla. How we getting there?_

_We will be receiving the aid of the Lord of the Crossroads._ At the time, Renji had not understood the slight downward turn he observed at the corners of his Captain's mouth. He did now.

"Hey there, Soul Reapers!" he howled, voice full of laughter. "What be the good word?" The man's Japanese was strange, but functional.

"Baron Samedi,*" said Byakuya, bowing to the man in black. "I am Captain Kuchiki Byakuya. On behalf of my people, we are grateful for your assistance in this matter."

"Bend too low, you break in half," he chuckled. "It be my honor to help. Ain't nothing at all for the Lord of the Crossroads. Besides," he produced a lit cigar from thin air and took a long draw, "I been hearing from many mouths about Aizen Sosuke's climb up the ladder." The look the man suddenly turned on the Captain was hard, searching, and in contradiction to the light tone of his previous statements. "The dead 'round here been talking, Shinigami.* And they be scared."

The Baron paused and let his last comment settle in the silence. Something about it seemed to say, _You're not doing your job._ Sensing the strange note of challenge in the air, Renji shifted his stance and slid his eyes to his captain. Kuchiki, however, did not respond to it, in word or spiritual pressure. He simply met the man's gaze without speaking or looking away.

And then, just as suddenly as it'd come, the tension was gone. The Baron took another drag from the cigar, and the eyes peering out from the skull sockets leered at Byakuya in a way that Renji was sure the Captain found distasteful. "Them 'gami up in the Seireitei know what's good for 'em, sending a sword frigid as you to haggle with them north men." He laughed very deeply at his own joke. "Them warriors won't goad _you_ into no fight. No sir. They do better to chew a stone.

"But," he sidled up close to Renji, and hid his mouth behind his hand to say what came next, "maybe this Stone Captain here find a snow-queen in the hall, don't come back after all, hey?" He was not sure why the man had bothered to shield his mouth; he had spoken even louder so that Byakuya would be sure to hear. Renji smiled weakly out of politeness, aware that his Captain's carefully blank face meant that he was silently enduring something he considered an indignity.

The Baron was now nudging Renji in the ribs. "Boy, I tell you something. The women they got up there…" he made a few gestures with his hands to describe what he thought of the women they had up there. Renji could not stop the slight widening of his eyes—though he himself couldn't say if it was a reaction to the description or the indecent gestures themselves.

Renji shook his head, and said the only thing he could think of to say, "Promises, promises." The Baron laughed raucously and slapped him on the back.

"This one," said the Baron to Kuchiki while wiping the corners of his eyes. "You keep this one, Byakuya. Keep your squad lively. Some blood in its veins!"

"Quite," said the Captain, his face unreadable.

Baron Samedi tipped his hat to the side, and suddenly he was all business. "There be a couple a things you need to know about before you start into that land of ice and snow." His white teeth gleamed in his face as is spoke, flashes of light in the darkness. "You can't use shunpo on the Rainbow Bridge.* They sending horses for you to ride so that you don't have to walk."

"Why can't we use shunpo?" asked Renji. "Isn't the bridge, by definition, not part of the realm yet? I mean, the side effects shouldn't be too strong there, right?" He had been warned that he might experience discomfort in the other world, but with the disclaimer that it shouldn't be too great unless he released his zanpakuto.

"The Bifrost Bridge ain't part of the realm, but it might as well be, thanks to the spirit pressure their guardian at the gates piles onto it with his gaze. It'd be just like you there already."

As far as Renji was concerned, this asked more questions than it clarified. It was Kuchiki that answered his quirked eyebrows. "The entrance to their realm in guarded by a god named Heimdall.* He has very acute senses."

"He can hear the grass grow, and the leaves fall. He can see to the end of the world," provided Samedi.

"He is constantly monitoring the bridge, and the spiritual pressure of this scrutiny is formidable even though it is in a transitional area of the realm."

Renji let out a breath. "So, horses," he said without relish. Renji hated horses.

"They be waiting on the other side as soon as I open the rift," nodded Samedi. "And when you get to the end, they give you additional supplies."

The Baron took one final pull from the cigar, then made a motion and it was simply _gone._ "Now," he said, cracking his knuckles, "lets get to business. I'll open the door on this side. The north god with you will open it coming back. I be waiting for you here, with the others. All five of you can go back to Soul Society at the same time." Although travel to Soul Society was second nature for the Shinigami, they had asked the Baron to be on hand for transporting both Ma'at and the new arrival to the Seireitei. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," said Renji. Kuchiki only nodded.

Samedi's laugh sounded like the cackling of a crow as he produced a pair of dark glasses and slapped them on his face. He walked a short distance to where two dirt paths of the park they were standing in intersected. Facing them, he began rubbing his hands together rapidly, as if trying to warm them up. When he broke them apart, a band of bright light stretched between them, like a cat's cradle. "Step up, step up!" he called. "Last train of the day coming down the tracks!" He bent down and hooked one foot through the light, and when he stood up a portal opened in front of him seven feet tall and five feet across.

"Good luck, Shinigami!" the Baron said from somewhere behind the door. "Tell them snow maidens that Samedi sends his regards!"

His suggestive laughter followed them through the portal.

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Bifrost Bridge** _

The first thing Renji noticed was the shimmering colors of light beneath his feet. It seemed odd, somehow, that the gateway to a pantheon strongly associated with war and ice would be so…colorful. The second thing he noticed were the enormous horses swishing their tails about twenty feet to his right, one black as night, the other white speckled with grey. _Not just horses, but war horses. Great._ They were too large to be anything else, unless they had saddled sleigh horses for a joke.

Kuchiki had already made his way to the black horse and detached what looked like a water skin from its side. _Well, I guess the other one's mine._ Grudgingly, he walked to the grey and swung into the saddle.

Renji was naturally a tall man. But from this high up, Kuchiki almost looked diminutive where he stood quaffing water. Renji frowned at his own water skin, not thirsty. _Maybe now's the time to ask some questions, while we're alone._

"I've been wondering something," began Renji.

"Oh?" said Kuchiki, retying the skin to the saddle.

"Why us?"

"To what do you refer?" Kuchiki grabbed his horse's mane and swung into the saddle. It was a quick and simple motion, but something about it looked slightly awkward. _I guess nobles in Soul Society aren't equestrians._ It's not like there were a lot of horses in Soul Society, anyway. Their horses began a fast trot down the bridge, without the benefit of direction. _I guess they know where to go._

"I mean, I get why they had to send a captain on this mission, but why us? Why not Captain Zaraki?"It seemed to Renji that Zaraki would have _loved_ to go on this mission. The opportunity to cross blades with a pantheon full of warrior gods seemed like something he would have hacked his way through quite a lot of people to get at, if he could.

"The very reason you think it would be a good match is exactly why it would be a poor choice." Fortunately, this was not one of the times his captain decided to leave his remarks cryptic. "Baron Samedi was correct in his assessment of me. No matter who we may encounter, it is unlikely I will involve myself in a fight."

_Assessment,_ thought Renji. "You expect someone there to be hostile?"

"No. I expect them to be proud warriors who like engaging in trials of combat, like Zaraki. I expect they would all get along famously in their common interests."

Renji was starting to get the idea. "You think that he would get all worked up and challenge them all to a fight."

The Captain simply raised one elegant eyebrow.

"Okay, _everybody knows_ that Captain Zaraki would do just that, but so what? I mean, all in good fun, right?" _Zaraki's definition of "good fun," anyway._ "I mean, they wouldn't kill each other," he said, though he wasn't certain himself.

"We do not know how quickly Aizen's forces are assembling, and we do not have time for such nonsense. Zaraki would expend considerable effort and energy on such a pursuit, possibly injuring himself in the process. Soul Society needs all of its captains whole and in top condition in the coming weeks."

Renji saw. "Earlier, that strange energy in the air. The Baron was trying to see if he could get a rise out of you."

Kuchiki nodded. "Baron Samedi is infamous for teasing and innuendo, but he is rarely genuinely insulting. He was checking to see if I was an appropriate choice for this task." Kuchiki untied the skin and took another drink. "His worry was unnecessary."

Renji frowned, and struggled to keep from bouncing in the seat. He supposed that explained why Kuchiki was an important piece, but not himself. He supposed it was just his duty as Kuchiki's Lieutenant.

Though his rank an undeniable source of pride, he still cursed his luck. The promotion he had garnered to get closer to Rukia was keeping them apart—and at the worst possible time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mythology Notes (and some general notes in there too):
> 
> Robert Johnson: I chose this song for the header ultra-special. Robert Johnson (1911-1938) was an incredibly (and some say supernaturally) talented delta blues musician—probably one of the most famous to have ever lived. It is said he claimed to have traveled to a crossroads near his home in Mississippi and sold his soul to the devil in exchange for mastery over music and the guitar—and no one was ever certain if he was joking, or meant it seriously. Tommy Johnson in O Brother Where Art Thou? and Mashed Potatoes Johnson in the Metalocalypse episode Bluesklok are both based directly off of Robert Johnson.
> 
> Minced meat and potatoes: She's eating corned beef hash, and hasn't ever seen it before. It's high in protein, iron, and starch. Between everything they're feeding her, her breakfast is very high in protein, iron, vitamin C, and liquid volume—a good meal to eat in preparation for replacing a large quantity of blood.
> 
> Baron Samedi/Lord of the Crossroads: In Vodou (Voodoo, Vodoun) Baron Samedi is the head of the Ghede loa, the spirits associated with death and fertility. He is well known for telling filthy jokes, smoking cigars, drinking rum, and wearing a dark suit, dark glasses, and a top hat. He waits at the crossroads between life and death to usher the dead on to the afterlife, and no one can cross without his permission. He is also known as Papa Ghede (though some consider them separate entities, many others consider Papa Ghede to be the "good" face of Baron Samedi). Although crass, enamored of women, and constantly teasing with innuendo, it is said he will not take a soul before its time and particularly dislikes taking children. If you have a sick child and things look bad, a practitioner of Vodou might pray to Samedi/Papa Ghede and ask him not to let them through the gate, because if he doesn't take them they won't die.
> 
> Talking to the dead: Baron Samedi/Papa Ghede has the ability to know what is happening and being said at all times in the lands of the living and the dead. For example, one might ask him about how a deceased relative is fairing in the afterlife, and vice versa. For the purposes of this story, Samedi knows what is happening to the mortals in all the realms—but only to the mortals, not the gods, even if the gods were previously mortal. For example, he could tell you how Chad's parakeet friend is fairing, but he couldn't tell you what Ukitake is up to.
> 
> Rainbow Bridge: The Bifrost Bridge, which connects Asgard (one of the nine worlds, and the realm of the Norse gods—more on this later) to Midgard (Earth). The Bifrost Bridge is visible as Aurora Borealis, or the Northern Lights, which appear as a shimmering rainbow of colors in the sky—hence its nickname, the Rainbow Bridge.
> 
> Heimdall: In the Norse pantheon, Heimdall is the guardian of the gods in general, and of the Bifrost Bridge in particular. With his amazingly acute senses (the most acute of the pantheon) he is constantly on the lookout for the signal that Ragnarok has begun. When it does, he will sound his horn, Gjallarhorn, warning the other gods and commencing the battle. Until then, he remains vigilant.


	7. Hammer of the Gods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this chapter was written little-bits at a time, in bus stations, train depots, and airports, when I had over-night layovers and couldn't sleep because I had nowhere to put my valuables, etc. There's cursing like woah. You have been warned.

**Chapter 7: Hammer of the Gods**  
Hammer of the Gods,  
We'll drive our ships to new lands  
To fight the hordes, singing and crying:  
"Valhalla I am coming!"  
 _-The Immigrant Song  
_ by Led Zepplin

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Asgard** _

For a person who hated riding horses as much as Renji did, it took an interminable amount of time to cross the shimmery colors of the bridge and finally step through the misty curtain that hid Asgard* from sight. And if the sharpening clarity of the landscape hadn't announced their arrival, the sudden drop in temperature certainly would have. Renji felt his skin prickle into goose bumps, but mastered the urge to rub his arms. _Don't want the natives to think I can't take the cold._

Though the god on guard— _Heimdall, Captain Kuchiki had called him—_ was obscured from his sight until the very last of the mist was cleared, Renji wasn't surprised in the least to see him standing just to the right of their entry point; he had felt the steady increase of spirit pressure against his temples all the way down the bridge, until the air felt thicker than water. What he was not expecting was for the man to be so very _tall_. Sitting high in the saddle, Renji barely reached the level of Heimdall's shoulders. Though he longed to be off is horse, he had no desire to stand next to the man without the mount. Feeling dwarfed was something Renji had left behind with childhood.

For his part, Heimdall nodded to them as they passed by, but did not shift his gaze or speak. Renji chose not to be offended. After all, letting gods from other pantheons pass into your territory unchallenged could hardly be considered ignoring them. _Obviously he was expecting us._ Still, the lack of a more formal greeting was a bit disconcerting.

When the horses had taken them about 20 yards past the guard, a deep voice from somewhere to their left boomed in halting Japanese. "Pardon…Heimdall. He…must watch…more now. With the…events."

This man was tall as well, but not nearly as enormous as Heimdall. _He's probably about my height, if I were to stand on the ground. Are they all this huge?_ Dark blonde hair fell in waves from beneath a steel helm that obscured the top half of his face. A dark fur cloak hung from wide shoulders over a rough-spun tunic. Even in the biting cold, his arms were bare. If this bothered him he did not show it.

With no horse in sight, he walked towards Captain Kuchiki's mount carrying heavy-looking saddle bags and speaking a steady flow of words in a rough, guttural-sounding language. _Old Norse_ , thought Renji as Kuchiki responded in kind. Though he had learned smatterings of many languages at the Shinigami Academy, Old Norse being one of them, he couldn't follow any of what was passed between the two men. Even without understanding it, Renji was transfixed by the conversation. _Listening to the Captain speak this language is surreal._ He seemed fluent, but its roughness was at odds with the elegance he seemed to display at the core of his being. It was like watching a dog walk on its hind legs. _Except the dog doesn't look ridiculous because it has more dignity than you, and knows it._ Captain Komamura suddenly came to mind, and Renji decided to give up on the entire line of thought.

As he watched, Kuchiki gestured in his direction, and he could hear his name within the stream of words. The man stepped around Byakuya's horse and to Renji's side. "Is…an honor…to…meechu, Abarai. I called Tyr."* Instead of bowing, he stuck out his hand. His _left_ hand, which made Renji hurriedly withdraw the right hand he'd been reaching forward and exchange it for its pair. His wrist was grasped in a grip so strong that Renji imagined the man must crush rocks in his fist for fun on the weekends.

He didn't remember much Old Norse, but he thought he could manage to return the greeting. _It is an honor to meet you as well._

Tyr released his wrist and laughed loudly, from deep in his gut. Over his shoulder, he rattled off a few sentences at Kuchiki, none of which Renji could decipher. He might have imagined it, but the corner of the Captain's mouth seem to twitch up into something like a smile. A smirk, at least. _It looks kind of weird on his face._ Kuchiki made a brief reply, equally incomprehensible, and Tyr reached down to open the saddle bags he had dropped on the ground when he had greeted them.

It was at this moment that Renji realized the man had no right hand. Where his right wrist should have ended in a palm and the associated fingers was a stump wound tightly in leather straps, which he was using to prop the bags open while he rummaged inside. _I guess that's why he stuck out the left one earlier. At least he's probably used to people awkwardly shaking his hand._

While Tyr dug in the bags, Kuchiki turned to him and said, "You just informed him that you also thought it was a good night to hunt meat. Though he understood your intent, he agreed with your statement on principle, and said that if you are ever again in Asgard, he would be pleased to take you wolf hunting. It seems he has a history with them." He looked pointedly at the leather-bound stump. "Regardless, I told him that now, unfortunately, is not the ideal time for my Lieutenant to be devoured by wolves."

Renji grimaced—both for the comment and his poor lingual skills. "Couldn't agree more."

The god pulled a thick fur cloak from the bag and handed it up to Kuchiki, who immediately swung it over his shoulders in one graceful sweep. He tossed a second to Renji. _With all the giants they have here, at least I know it will fit._ He swung it on and was gratified to see that if anything, it was a little big. The bite of the cold northern wind was immediately replaced with an enveloping warmth. "Wolf skins?" he asked, only half joking.

Tyr shook his head, amused. "Bear." He put his one good hand up as if mimicking the forepaw of a rearing bear. "I kill." Renji looked down at the cloak, which he could now clearly see was made from one enormous animal. _I'll have to remember to pass on that invitation to go hunting._

The god passed a few more things to Kuchiki, including a new water skin— _His is empty already?—_ which he traded for the old, and a small wooden box, which the two men seemed to be having a very serious discussion about. When they were finished, Tyr shouldered the bags and pointed in the direction of some rising foothills in the distance. He couldn't make out much of their exchange, but he definitely heard the word "Valhalla."

His directions given, the god raised his hand in farewell. "Fight…bravely, Kuchiki, Abarai." As he strode off the way he had come from, their horses turned themselves in the direction he had pointed and started for the foothills.

_Odd that he didn't accompany us._ "What was that all about?"

Kuchiki sent him a look that might have been a glare. "Tyr is the warrior god among these warrior gods. He was sent to welcome us to their realm."

"I caught that. But…is it really okay for us not to have an escort?"

"Do not equate the customs of our culture with another. Escorting us would have suggested a deficiency on our part—either that we are incapable of following his directions to reach it on or own, or that we are particularly untrustworthy and must be supervised within their realm. Allowing us to travel the short distance of our own accord, at our own pace, is considered a great honor."

Renji tried to follow that thread of logic, but ended up with it tied in a knot. _I get that the "proud warrior people" letting us roam around unchallenged shows some confidence in us. But doesn't it also show a disdain for our abilities? Like, we couldn't be a threat if we tried?_ His suspicion that much more was going on here than Kuchiki let on was growing.

His brows drew together as the Captain uncorked the new skin and took a drink. _Why is he so thirsty?_ Perhaps Kuchiki knew something about water in this world that he did not. _Not like he'd tell me if he did._

He reached down and untied his own skin from the saddle. _I guess I don't want to be dehydrated._ Turning it up in his hands, he took a gulp…

…and nearly coughed up a lung.

"Haarack! Koff!" He tried as best he could to suck in a deep breath. "What the fuck _is_ this shit?!" He had been expecting water, but the liquid that hit his tongue was thick with a cloying sweetness and a sour aftertaste.

"It is called mead,*" said Byakuya, taking another drink from his skin. "It is a type of alcohol made from honey. Do not insult it so loudly while we are in Asgard. It is the chosen drink of the gods of the Norse pantheon."

Renji gave Kuchiki a look of disbelief. _He's telling me that he's been chugging down some type of ale this whole time?_ "I thought it was water." Somehow he was able to make this sound like both a question and accusation. Neither was addressed by his Captain, who kept his eyes forward, his face blank.

When Byakuya did not respond, Renji kept prodding for an explanation. "I mean, you were drinking so _much_ of it." Byakuya clenched the reigns of his horse in a white-knuckled grip, but still he was met with silence.

Renji could feel his anger at being ignored rising to the surface, and only just managed to wrestle it under control. Unbidden, Rukia's words from earlier echoed in his head. " _I don't know why, and we both know he'll probably never say, but my brother needs you for this mission._ He wondered, not for the first time, how she came to this conclusion. Anyway, it wasn't that or any of the other sentences that she had spoken during that conversation that had convinced him. It was, _Please, Renji, for me._ She had not _actually_ ended it with, "for me," and he couldn't be sure whether it had been implied or not. But Renji liked to think it was, and that's how he remembered it.

Because since he couldn't fail her ( _not again_ ), it made the part of him furious at being kept behind and kept in the dark easier to squish down to the corners of his heart. There in those spaces, even if he could still feel it, at least he wouldn't act on it.

_That's right, Abarai, always pushing it down and stayin' quiet. Always running the race only to turn chicken-shit when you see the finish line._ He thought about that for a second, and blinked with a sudden, painfully-obvious realization. _He isn't telling me because I haven't actually asked. I've only made statements._ _Renji, you damn coward. If you want the answer, ask the damn question._

"Why did you bring me here?" He had planned on asking about the alcohol. But in truth, that wasn't really what he wanted to know, and his mouth circumvented his brain. He'd asked, 'Why us?' earlier, and he'dgotten an answer. But the Captain had only told him why _Kuchiki_ had to travel to this place, but not why _he_ was here, despite having another place to be.

Byakuya's eyes slid to him, though his head didn't turn. After a brief pause, he said, "During the briefing, you were told that it is difficult for gods to travel into spirit realms with discordant reiatsu. I daresay you feel the pressure of the reiatsu rejection even now against your skin, your eyes. It is no doubt uncomfortable, but you are able to function. You could even draw your sword, and fight with it, though in their realm the Æsir* would defeat you in open combat with ease. As long as you do not release your zanpaktou, you are able-bodied in this realm.

"What you do not know is that there is a significant spike in the incompatibility of one's reiatsu in other realms as your power increases. For beings of mid-Captain level, any functions beyond the most basic movements are nearly impossible. Even walking is strenuous."

Renji actually had to remind himself to close his mouth, because it was hanging open. "Are you saying…are you telling me…" _that right now, I'm stronger than you?_

Kuchiki didn't answer the half-question. He didn't have to. "It was a great honor for Tyr to come and welcome us, but his continued presence would have been overwhelming—and we must yet have the energy to stand in the All-Father's presence."

"Then the horses…the real reason for the horses…"

"Are to conserve the energy I might have expended walking."

"And the mead- "

"Is the chosen drink of the gods of this pantheon. It resonates with reiatsu of this realm. When a god of a foreign realm ingests it, it dulls the side-effects. However, it has its own set of hazards. The more one drinks of it, the less your reiatsu resonates with your _own_ realm. Thus, the weaker you are when you return there. Fortunately, this deficiency is only temporary. It is when it is eaten in concentrated quantities that it is most dangerous—in those instances, it may keep you bound to the spirit realm you ingested it in _permanently.*_

"Further, it is alcoholic, and has the associated detractors as well."

Renji blinked. _Is he trying to tell me that he's…buzzed? Will be buzzed?_ Renji looked back in time two days, and decided his past self would have laughed in the face of his present self if he had tried to tell past-Renji that he would be having this conversation.

He tried his best to piece together what the Captain had told him into an answer for his question. "So, _I'm_ here, because with you…" _weak, drunk_ , "…with those issues you just mentioned, I would have to defend us if things turned ugly here."

"Do not be ridiculous. Neither of us would survive an attack by the Æsir while we're in Asgard. Your responsibility, should that unlikely scenario occur, would be to escape this realm and report to Soul Society that Asgard has fallen in league with Aizen."

"I understand," said Renji, and let the conversation die. He didn't need the Captain to confirm the rest, and suspected it had taken a huge chunk of his pride to say what he already had. Rukia had been right. Rather, she had been right about the Captain needing _someone_ to assist him—with a dire mission and in a weakened state to boot.

And he had _chosen_ Renji for the task.

_Holy fucking crap. He actually_ trusts _me. He trusts me to see him and travel with him while he's weak._ Renji wondered if the winter war would commence faster now that Hell had frozen over.

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Duat** _

The woman that showed up at the entrance to their room was both everything and nothing like the feline that had brought them to it the night before. When a black cat the size of a panther had prowled over to them from across the stone hallway, it was only its size that kept Ichigo from bursting out with an accusing "Yoruichi!" like an idiot.

He was glad he held his tongue; the voice that came out of the feline was deep like cat-Yoruichi's, but decidedly more feminine. After identifying herself as Bast,* she had taken them to a single room where they would be given a chance to eat ( _Do not worry yourselves over_ this _food, young ones_ ) and rest.

_We will have separate rooms for you tomorrow,_ the cat had said. _Urahara couldn't give us a definitive number on how many were coming, and we thought you like to stick together for the first evening, anyway. Rest now. We have much to accomplish in the morning._

The morning had arrived, and the woman standing before them was like a slightly more muscular and less clothed version of Ma'at. Unlike Yoruichi, this woman's voice matched her cat counterpart, and it slid out of her throat like water out of dark glass. "Good morning young ones. I hope that breakfast was satisfactory."

About an hour before her arrival ( _One hour, two? It's impossible to tell in this place)_ servants had come with trays of unfamiliar but perfectly palatable food. If Ichigo had any appetite, it probably would have been delicious. But the thought of the struggle they were facing made it hard enough to just force the food down his throat and swallow, let alone taste it.

"It was of excellent quality, " said Rukia, next to him in the doorway. "We appreciate your hospitality."

"Think nothing of it. We are pleased to be able to help you retrieve your friend, since the rest of us cannot help you fight your war. Are you all ready to leave?"

"Leave?" asked Ichigo. Though he knew—had been clearly told—that they wouldn't be able to cross Underworlds for three more nights, part of his stomach leaped into his throat at the word. He smashed it back down, too late to keep the disappointment entirely at bay.

"Are we going to begin the training Ma'at spoke of?" asked Ishida.

Bast smiled, and Ichigo couldn't help but notice her canines seemed rather long for her otherwise normal set of teeth. "Although I am pleased at your eagerness, we will not begin your training until tomorrow at first light. Today you will have lessons instead."

"Lessons?" asked Chad.

"Urahara asked that we educate you on the way that Death works. He said he did not have time to instruct you properly."

"The way death works?" asked Ichigo. He slid his eyes to Rukia, only to find her returning his confused glance. "But we—"

She laughed brightly. "Yes, yes. 'But you are Shinigami.' You know Death, but only for yours."

Ichigo fervently hoped that all of the gods they would meet on this journey would not talk in riddles.

"What do you mean 'ours?'" asked Rukia.

"Those who have placed themselves in the care of your pantheon, of course. Those that you guide to the next plane or realm. _Yours._ " The way she said the word made something tingle at the back of Ichigo's neck. In his periphery he saw Rukia shiver, and knew the others had felt it too. Though it was by nature a possessive word, it did not bear the territorial claim of property or chattel when it passed her lips. Rather, she used it in the sense that a name was yours or a friend was yours; a significant, deeply-held association without ownership.

"You, Kuchiki-san, are the oldest here, and yet even you are not old enough and high ranking enough to understand the intricacies of Death beyond that of your own pantheon. You will need to know these secrets and more if you are to travel the realms."

_So this is what Urahara meant when he said knowledge was power. I wonder if he was just being lazy and passed the task off._ "Urahara asked you to teach this to us?" asked Ichigo, without the snide attitude that thinking of the shop keeper made him want to adopt.

"He left it in our care," she confirmed. "It is time we were on our way. Your teacher is waiting," She turned from them and began down the sand-strewn corridor, walking deceptively fast for a gait that seemed non-chalant.

As they walked, he tried to take in the surroundings. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to see as they made turn after turn through relatively narrow corridors: walls covered in indecipherable hieroglyphs, torches illuminating only small sections of the stone. He looked ahead, at Bast moving in perfect silence in front of them, and was again struck by the similarities between her and Yoruichi—most particularly in the way they moved. Unlike so many of the fighters he knew, who held their bodies in coiled tension just waiting to spring, both women held their muscles perfectly relaxed when not in use. Though Ichigo knew perfectly well their reaction time would be even faster, their strikes even harder to judge, the relaxed body language lulled an opponent into a false sense of security. It also put a distinct swagger-like roll to their hips, and it occurred to Ichigo that Grimmjow moved in a somewhat similar fashion. _Hmm…I wonder what the connection is._

Ichigo was about to make a comment about this to Rukia, who was walking beside him, but when he turned her direction he found her scowling at him. "Wha—"

He never did finish, seeing as her elbow crashed into his ribs.

"..the hell?! How many times do I have to tell you not to go hitting people for no reason!" he yelled, grabbing his side. With the hall so narrow, his protest bounced off the walls and assaulted his ears. _Note to self: do not yell at the top of your voice in an enclosed space the next time a hysterical broad hits you in the ribs._ He felt this advice would certainly come in handy in the future, considering the number of girls he knew that were prone to violence, and how rarely he understood what was going through their minds. _Forget Hueco Mundo, between Rukia and Tatsuki I'll die before I turn 18._

The rest of the group ignored the outburst, and the narrow stone corridor abruptly widened into a vast hall. Though the walls stretched out of sight on either side, stone pillars rose up along a narrow strip of floor, herding the group down an aisle. Besides the pillars there were only two things of note in the room, and they both lay at the end of the path.

The first was a beautifully wrought scale, the supports and balance trays all crafted out of gleaming gold. Even at this distance Ichigo could appreciate the craftsmanship. The second was the throne about ten yards behind the scales, complete with an imposing-looking man seated on it.

"Bast-sama," said Rukia before they got close enough to be heard, "who are you taking us to?"

"Who better to teach you than the Lord of the Afterlife?" She gestured to the throne facing the scales. "I am taking you to Osiris."

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Valhalla (in Asgard)** _

The hall was a vast building, its very essence warfare. One could not conclude anything else when laying eyes upon it. _The roof is thatched with spears and shields. They must take this warrior thing_ very _seriously._

"We will leave the horses here," said Kuchiki.

_Thank everything that was ever divine,_ thought Renji as he swung down from the animal.

They approached the enormous entrance, which was flanked by a couple of armor- and fur-clad men. Their spirit pressure was not nearly the crushing weight that Heimdall and Tyr had displayed. _Dead warriors?_ Renji knew Valhalla* was a hall for the dead, but was rather rusty on the intricacies of the pantheon. With a silent nod, they swung the immense doors outward and motioned for them to enter.

If the outside was impressive, it was _nothing_ compared to the sight that awaited them inside. A wall of noise crashed into them when the doors were open, revealing an aisle flanked on either side with a teaming mass of humanity. Or at least, they had been human. Renji wasn't sure if they were still considered such now that they had earned their place in the hall. _Einherjar.*_ The word returned to him from the depths of his Academy education. _They call them Einherjar._

His eyes swept around to take it all in. At least, as much as he could. Thousands of Einherjar were at benches for as far as one could see, eating, drinking, gambling, laughing. The majority were men, but a sizeable number of women were mixed in among the tables, laughing as loudly and drinking as heartily as the men. All were dressed as the guards he had seen out front, but he kept thinking he saw different clothing out of the corner of his eyes. Biker leathers. Camouflage. Denim. Even business suits, scrubs...Renji had known that the Norse pantheon was still collecting fighters, but he wondered how the criteria for identifying a warrior's soul must have changed over the millennia.

Beside him and a step ahead, Captain Kuchiki walked tall and proud. At least, that was how it would seem to a stranger. Renji could see the stiffness in his usually fluid movements, the miniscule indications his muscles gave that he was straining the closer they got to the throne at the end of the aisle. It looked like he was fighting every moment not to buckle over. Renji himself felt the pressure against his skin like the crushing weight of the sea. He could not even imagine how much worse it must be for the Captain.

The man on the throne was at least as tall as Zaraki, and even broader in the shoulder. Though he clearly had innumerable years etched into his features, his frame remained unbowed, and he sat on the throne like a man made for battle and not for sitting. He had but one eye that blazed a bright blue, yet it was the empty socket yawning on the right side of his face that drew Renji's attention.

[Hail, Lord Odin,*] said Byakuya in the heavy Norse dialect. [I…Kuchiki Byakuya, the…and my Lieutenant, Abarai Renji, have come… request your… struggle.] Even though he didn't really understand the majority of what was said, Renji was impressed at Kuchiki's ability to make his tone sound respectful and assertive at the same time. While he spoke, Renji kept his eyes peeled and watchful of the two enormous wolves that lounged at the base of the throne.* _Maybe the whole 'devoured by wolves' thing wasn't all idle talk._ Since they didn't really seem interested in him, he shifted his attention back to the conversation at hand.

"Well met, Soul Reapers," said the man in perfect Japanese. "I am Odin, All-Father, leader of the Norse pantheon. I welcome you to my hall. Valhalla is honored by your presence." He motioned with one hand, and a tall, pale woman stepped forward with a silver pitcher. She handed each of them a drinking cup that had been fashioned out of horn and silver, then filled the vessels with what Renji presumed was more mead. Kuchiki immediately took a sip.

"Moreover, I am pleased that you have come here, Captain Kuchiki," said the grizzled man. "Although we are committed to fulfilling the oath, I will not put the strength of my warriors under the command of anyone I haven't looked in the eye. I am well aware of the hardships you had to endure to arrive here. Your actions speak highly of you."

Renji wondered if Odin was including Baron Samedi's teasing under "hardships." He probably was.

"Allow me to be blunt," the god continued. "I cannot commit our strongest to your cause. Though Tyr and Thor and Freyja are only a few of the warriors we have eager to help wage your war, they must remain here, prepared in the event that Ragnarok begins. They would not be able to pass into your world in any regard, and I understood from the message that you are desirous of a warrior that can lend their expertise in Soul Society for at least a moon before the true outbreak of battle." He looked to the Captain for a confirmation, which was met with a nod. "To answer that need, I will send with you the strongest warrior that you can accommodate. In addition, I understand that there is concern for the protection of Midgard* when the battle-proper erupts. For this front, I will provide you with a host of Einherjar, to be summoned when the battle commences."

Captain Kuchiki bowed at the waist, and said something in Norse that Renji assumed was a formal statement of thanks.

"And one more thing," Odin continued. He shifted his shoulders, and a pair of ravens* perched on the back of the throne hopped and squawked at the movement. "The warriors that I am sending to fight for you, _with_ you—I will have your word that you will lead them wisely. Each of one of them, from the most powerful on down, lived their mortal lives in a way that would earn them a place _here._ No, not in hall itself," he said when Renji looked around, "at my side. Valhalla is a waiting chamber. It is not an eternal resting place, it is the place we wait for Ragnarok. When the battle starts, every man and woman here has committed themselves to ride through those doors and fight until they are torn apart. They lived for this purpose. They _died_ for this purpose—to be deemed worthy to fight alongside their heroes and gods, and protect their world from the monsters of chaos.

"The warriors I am sending with you—who have chosen to help you—are risking the fate they worked hard to earn to possibly be obliterated in a foreign realm fighting foreign enemies. Whether you understand what is in their hearts or not, this sacrifice is an enormous one to ask of them, and should not be taken lightly by anyone given the responsibility of commanding them in the coming war."

Kuchiki took a step forward, even closer to the throne, and Renji could see the way the exponential increase in pressure made the Sixth Squad Captain's legs tremor slightly under its weight. Renji was pretty sure that the one piercing blue eye could see it too.

Where there would have been a deep bow if they were in Soul Society, Kuchiki stood as tall as he could, and fixed his eyes directly on the elder god's face. Renji would've given most of his teeth and a kidney to know what the Captain said next, but it was a jumble of rough sounds laced together with a tone of oath and absolute conviction. _I wonder if he switched to Norse specifically so I wouldn't hear it._

Odin's solitary eye practically burned in its socket as he watched Kuchiki speak. When he was finished, the god turned to the servant standing by with the pitcher. "Is the warrior ready?" She nodded in affirmation. "Excellent. Make the preparations." The woman bent her head in acknowledgement and moved from the hall.

"The good news, Shinigami," he said as she left, "is that while I can't send you our most powerful, we do not expect many of our pantheon's strongest enemies to flock to Aizen's court, either."

"Why's that?" Renji blurted out, before he could worry about speaking out of turn.

"Many of our greatest threats will not be strong enough to move until Ragnarok. We have already bound Fenrir,* at great cost,* and until he breaks free the most devastating agents—Loki and his children—will not dare make their move. For them to outrightly join Aizen now would either force Ragnarok into motion before they were at their peak of strength, or waste the strength they do have and make the wait for the Twilight even longer while they recover. It is my prediction that they will not see an opportunity in Aizen's war, only a false start.

"And anyway, by all reports Aizen is clever—clever enough to know that letting a trickster god like Loki in your inner-circle is dangerous. Even if he did come calling, Aizen would be wise to turn him away. No, it is not the powerful of our pantheon's enemies we should fear, but lesser creatures that might find his offer enticing and might in turn be found useful-the Jötnar* for a certainty, and possibly even some of the Svartalves.* These groups, and their numbers, are the ones we should concern ourselves with."

"We will remember this advice," said Kuchiki.

The god nodded. "Now that business is concluded, please help yourselves to our hospitality while preparations are made. When you have feasted, your new comrade will meet you where you left your horses. Travel well, Shinigami, and fight bravely. Hildegard." Another pale-skinned woman, this one with dark hair, led them to a table where men were eating meat and laughing loudly. There was space at the table, presumably for them to sit.

"Thanks," Renji said to the woman— _Hildegard—_ as she refilled their drinking horns. Well, topped-off Renji's, anyway. _This mead stuff must really be an acquired taste_.

They spent the next hour drinking mead, eating joints of meat, and being slapped on the back _hard_ by the warriors sitting at the table. At least, _Renji_ was slapped on the back as he finished each round of drink. Kuchiki, though downing far more then him, was met with hearty applause only—the Einherjar realizing on their own that the Captain wouldn't appreciate such rough congratulations. _Someday_ , Renji vowed to himself, _I will project the kind of aura that will make Vikings think twice before pounding me on the back._ His inner-self wished him good luck with that aspiration.

When they were finished, and had been seen off with loud wishes of good hunting shouted in Old Norse, they left the hall and moved towards the area where they had left the horses. On the approach, Renji saw the woman from the hall brushing down a large black stallion. She had sensibly changed from her white dress into leathers and boots for the task. Seeing his own horse standing nearby, he mentally grimaced, wishing that the riding part of the journey was already over.

As he and the Captain both started checking bindings, he thought about the Baron's request to tell women he'd said hello—and he purposefully wiped it from his mind. This woman looked muscled enough that if she punched him in the face, he'd lose teeth. _Best not get teeth knocked out on account of someone else's innuendo._ But conversation did seem polite, if she was taking care of preparations for the warrior that was to come with them. He decided to risk assuming she could speak Japanese.

"When will your death god be arriving?" he asked the servant.

Byakuya was off to his right, in the opposite direction from the woman. It was for this reason Renji didn't catch the sharp glance his Captain cast his way. He _did_ notice the slight narrowing of her eyes and the tightening of her grip upon the bindings of the saddle, but the meaning was lost. "Pardon?" The word sounded awkward with her thick accent.

_Maybe she doesn't speak Japanese that well?_ "Uh, the guy who owns that horse," he said, pantomiming his words for her benefit, "when is he coming?" As he watched, her mouth compressed into a tight line and her brow furrowed.

He shifted his glance over to Kuchiki, and saw that he had erected his 'blank face,' but closed his eyes. Though silent, everything in his body language seemed to convey the word, "Idiot." It only lasted a second before he had reopened his eyes, looked at the woman, and rattled off a string of words that Renji couldn't understand.

The woman snorted in reply, and with a forceful gesture swung her leg up over the back of the horse and landed heavily in the saddle. It was only then that Renji realized his mistake. _Damn it Abarai, you really_ are _an idiot._

From her seat high on the horse, she looked down at Renji with eyes that would have frozen ice. "I learned your language during the Second Great War."* The words were still thick and strange on her tongue, but this time around he could recognize that only part of what painted her words was accent. The other part was anger. Before he could even attempt an apology, she kicked her horse to a start and led it in the direction from which they had come.

Kuchiki began talking in his let-me-calmly-tell-you-why-you're-an-idiot voice. "That was Hraust, the highest ranking of Odin's formerly mortal Valkyries.* She is the one who will be traveling with us back to Soul Society as their representative to the Oath." He pulled himself onto his horse, and Renji was amazed that he was able to put just as much disdain into the gesture as Hraust had, though the reiatsu pressure and alcohol consumption made the movement much less fluid and graceful than it would otherwise have been.

As Kuchiki's horse turned to follow Hraust, Renji sighed and struggled into the saddle. He didn't need the extra height to see it would be a long trip back. He looked towards the shrinking figure of their new, angry traveling companion, and thought about what the Baron had told him. _Samedi, you liar._

* * *

_Mythology Notes:_

Apparently my notes were too extensive this chapter for the "end notes" section of A03, so they have to go here. Please be aware they are a little out of order. I put them in the order they would make most sense if you read straight down the list.

**Nine Worlds:** The following notes will be easier to read (and for me to write) with a quick intro to the "Nine Worlds" of Norse Mythology. In no particular order: 1. Asgard: home of the Æsir (see below); 2. Alfheim: land of the light elves (think Legolas); 3. Muspellsheim: the land of fire; 4. Vanaheim: land of the Vanir (see Æsir below); 5. Midgard: Earth, where we live; 6. Jötunheim: land of the giants (see Jötunn below); 7. Niflheim: land of fog/mist, where Hel is (more on this later); 8. Nidavellir: land of the dwarves; 9. Svartalfaheim: land of the dark elves (see Svartalves below).

**Asgard:** See "Nine Worlds" above. Valhalla is one hall in Asgard.

**Tyr:** Tyr is the Norse god of war, justice, bravery, honor, sacrifice (for a cause), truth, and single-combat. While just about all Norse gods could be called gods of war (when you get right down to it), the essence of _combat_ are most directly associated with him. Also known as Tiw in other Germanic languages, Tyr is one of the four gods given homage to in our days of the week (Tyr/Tiw's Day = Tuesday, Odin/Wotan's Day= Wednesday, Thor's Day = Thursday, and Freya's Day = Friday). On a side note, Tyr is given very little physical description in the mythos (as in hair color, etc.) so I had a bit of free range in how he should look.

**Mead:** a type of alcohol made from honey. A favorite of the Vikings, northern Germanic peoples in general, and other related European cultures. (Personally, I think it's best when mulled with spices). Mead flows freely in Valhalla. It should be thought of as the "drink of the gods" for this pantheon.

**Æsir:** The Norse gods are actually split into two groups, the Æsir (including Odin, Thor, Tyr, Baldur, etc.) and the Vanir (including Freyja and her twin brother Freyr). Most of the well known gods are in the Æsir, and Freyja and Freyr kind of get adopted into them, so the Vanir don't really come up to much in pop-culture. For simplicity sake, when this story mentions Æsir, think of it as "gods of the Norse pantheon," including relevant Vanir.

**Foods of the Gods:** Remember the advice Urahara gave the crew a couple of chapters ago? Same deal. Be careful what you eat and drink the lands of the gods.

**Bast** (or **Bastet** ) **:** Cat goddess of the Egyptian pantheon—a goddess of war and protection. Early depictions of her feature her as a lion (the war connotations being clear), and then later as a domestic cat—which were sacred because the exterminated rodents who spread disease, a form of protection. Bast is a warrior, but a warrior of a different stripe than the Norse gods or even the Shinigami, as it were. Hers is a strength of cunning and cleverness, a predator in every way that a feline is. Extra points to InfiniteDragon for recognizing her before I gave her name. In my story, I split the difference between a lion and a black house cat by having her appear as a black panther, but I suspect she'll show up as all three at some point or another.

**Odin:** The head of the Norse pantheon, also called All-Father. A god of wisdom, war, poetry, magic…the list goes on. To gain knowledge, Odin upside-down hung from a tree (the world tree, Yggdrasil) for nine days, stabbed himself in the side with a spear, and plucked out his right eye and dropped it into Mimir's Well. The eye is still there at the bottom of the well, seeing everything, and is only one of the avenues by which Odin wisdom constantly. Modern pictures of Odin often show him missing the left eye because of mirror-image confusion. When we look in a mirror, our right eye is on our right. But when we look at a photograph of ourselves, our right eye is on our left. (Seriously, check if you don't believe me). Artists draw the empty socket on _their_ right, which is, in-fact, his left eye. Don't let this fool you. _His_ right eye is the one that's in the well.

**Einherjar:** see "Valkyrie" below.

**Midgard:** See "Nine Worlds" above. Every pantheon has its own name for the human world. Karakura could be said to be in Midgard.

**Wolves:** Odin's two wolves, Freki (ravenous) and Geri (greedy).

**Ravens:** Odin's two ravens, Huginn (thought) and Muninn (memory). They take daily flights all over Midgard, and when they return to Asgard they tell Odin everything they have seen.

**Fenrir** (also **Fenris** ) **:** One of Loki's three children, an enormous wolf. Ragnarok will begin when Fenrir _devours the sun,_ at which point the shit hits the fan.

**Great cost:** This is the story of how Tyr lost his right hand. The gods knew that Fenrir was Bad News—after devouring the sun, he will eventually be the one to kill Odin. To stave off this destiny as long as possible, the gods plan to entrap Fenrir and tie him up. But even this early in the game, the wolf is too big to be brought down with force; they must trick him. They get a huge chain from the dwarves and bet him that he can't break it. Proud, he lets them tie him up, and breaks the chain easily. They get an even bigger, stronger chain, challenge him again, and once again he breaks it with ease. Finally they go to the Svartalves, who make a thin rope from things like the footfalls of cats and the tears of birds. Sensing trickery this time, Fenrir only allows them to tie him up if a god puts their hand in his mouth. If he can't break it, and they don't untie him, he will eat the hand. Knowing it will mean their hand, their _sword_ hand, only Tyr is brave enough to go through with it. The rope holds, Fenrir bites down, and Tyr becomes Tyr the One-Handed.

**Jötnar** (singular **Jötunn** ) **:** Giants. In Norse mythology, giants were chaotic beings that are often on the opposite side of a conflict, fight, or challenge as the Æsir or Vanir. They're not really "evil," but they are generally destructive.

**Svartalves:** Literally "dark elves." There are two types of elves in Norse mythology. The "light elves," which were the inspiration for the pale, gold-haired creatures in the Lord of the Rings (think Legolas), and the Svartalves. Though some sources (like Wikipedia) say that Svartalves=Dwarves, since each of these races have their own realm, I think it's unlikely they're meant to be the same. In any case, Svartalves are skilled crafters of metal and jewelry, and made the thin magical rope that finally bound Fenrir.

**Valkyries:** The pyschopomps of the Norse pantheon. Also called, "Choosers of the Slain," their specific job is to pick from the dead those that they think would kick a lot of ass at Ragnarok, and bring them to Asgard. These selected warriors are called **Einherjar.** Half of those they pick go to Valhalla (Odin's Hall), the other half to Fólkvangr (Freyja's Hall). In the mythos, there were definitely Valkyries that were always demigods—that like the Æsir had never been mortal. However, depending on what you read, there are also tales about mortal women who—through sheer badassery—become Valkyries after death. For the purposes of this story, there are both immortal and mortal Valkyries in Asgard, the latter of which is less powerful. Odin is sending the strongest of the mortal Valkyries to Soul Society.

While the mythos of Valkyries in general is pretty well shaped, not much is known about individual Valkyries (except Brunhilde, but her story is so specific it makes her a bad fit for this story). Therefore, Hraust will be one of the death gods I have a little bit more artistic license with. I promise not to go too crazy with it.

**Valhalla:** Odin's hall in Asgard. This is where half the Einherjar go (the other half go to Freya's hall, Fólkvangr) to feast and in general make merry until it's time for Ragnarok. Don't get confused—it's not "Norse heaven," because you don't get there by being virtuous and you don't get to rest on your laurels when you get there. There are actually many different places that the dead can go under this pantheon, depending on how you lived and how you died, with a range of pleasantness. If you're in Valhalla, it means _specifically_ that you've been selected by the gods to help them fight the mother of all wars at the end of the world—and you think that's pretty damn awesome.

**Second Great War:** World War II. There's nothing like a war to bring death gods out of the woodwork, and nothing like a _world_ war to get gods from different lands and cultures to meet. As Japan was a major player in that conflict, Hraust learned the language while choosing slain in the Pacific Theater. She simply had no call to learn it before that. Incidentally, WWII is also when Byakuya learned several Pacific Island languages, but see if he ever uses them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 2: To clarify, Renji's not actually being a sexist, though I'm sure Hraust thinks he is. After seeing her serving beverages in the hall, he filed her under "servant" in his mind. He didn't know that Valkyries are also cupbearers in Odin's Valhalla, in addition to their other, more well-known duties (see Valkyries below). So when he sees her again he applies this assumption and believes she's just gearing up the horse for a rider that will eventually arrive. If you think Renji can't catch a break now, wait until next chapter, when he meets Tatsuki.


End file.
